The Madness Within
by Emily Blake
Summary: To solve the cunningly brutal murder of a young doctor, Ryan is forced to face the insanity that nearly ended his life a year ago. Sequel to "Demons."
1. Sneak Peek

**Author's Note: **Here we go again. ;P

Hello! Welcome to my ninth CSI:Miami fic! I'm so stoked for this sequel to "Demons." The story title is subject to change. The following is a super-special sneak preview of the story. It's an excerpt from the currently planned-to-be tenth chapter. I hope you're all strapped in for the long haul, because this is shaping up to be my most intense, longest fic ever. I'm stoked and I hope you are too.

I hope you enjoy this special peek! I wrote it and posted it right at midnight as a little birthday present to myself lol. I'm 22 today! Yikes, I feel old. :P Anyway, enough about me. Go read!

* * *

Countless faces swirled around him in the seemingly endless ocean of bodies. The midday sun beat down upon them all, waves of invisible heat lazily radiating upward in suffocating swirls and ribbons. The smell of baking asphalt and sweaty people mingled with the freshness of the ocean air and exotic flowers, making the air feel even heavier.

Ryan Wolfe stood in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling people bump into him over and over again as businessfolk, tourists and beach-goers all went about their daily activities. None seemed to even notice the young man standing still in the middle of the roiling afternoon crowd, gazing blankly around at them as they passed. They didn't seem to notice, or perhaps simply didn't care, the shadows under his hazel eyes or the dark stubble on his face or the tousled, unkempt state of his dark hair.

He stared around at all the people ignoring him as they passed him on the street. A middle-aged man in a navy blue suit was walking toward him, a black cell phone pressed to his ear.

Ryan's eyes widened.

"...Should be home by five o'clock tonight, sweetie," the man said, not noticing the younger man he was quickly approaching. "Janice and Freddie still coming over for dinner?"

An iron-like hand suddenly clamped onto his wrist. The man in the suit stopped dead in his tracks and stared in utter surprise at the person who had grabbed him. The young man looked terrible, as if he hadn't been taking very good care of himself. He gazed at him, a strangely wild look in his eyes.

"Hey, what the hell...," the man in the suit barked, but Ryan cut him off.

"They'll find you with that!" Ryan cried, not letting go of the man's wrist, the one that held the phone against the man's ear. Passersby turned to stare confusedly as they walked past.

"Honey, I have to call you back," the man said quickly into the phone, then pressed the button to hang up. The young man still didn't let go of his wrist. His grip was bruisingly tight.

"The signal is carried through the airwaves!" Ryan shouted in the man's face. "They'll find you, they want to find you!"

The man painfully wrestled his hand from Ryan's grasp. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you, boy?" he snarled. "Get away from me!"

"No, you don't understand!" Ryan cried, moving uncomfortably close to the man, clutching the lapels of the man's suit jacket. "You can't let them find you!"

The man began to feel the creeping onset of fear. Who the hell was this guy?

"Look, man," he said carefully. "You need to let go of me. Right now."

Ryan stared at him with wild eyes for a few moments, something terrifyingly alien flickering in the hazel depths. Then he let go of the man's jacket.

The man in the suit quickly hurried away from him, leaving Ryan looking lost and confused on the sidewalk. He watched Ryan furtively as he hurried away. As soon as he was a seemingly safe distance away from the strange young man, he took out his phone again and dialed three numbers.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yeah, there's some crazy guy accosting people here," he said quickly, glancing in Ryan's direction. He didn't seem to notice the look. "I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Where are you, sir?" she asked.

"Near the corner of Fern and 16th," he told her. "Across the street from Marley's Grill."

"Okay, sir, we'll send someone immediately. In the meantime, I suggest you keep your distance from the man."

He glanced at Ryan again. "Yeah, no problem there," he muttered.

Ryan began ambling through the crowd aimlessly, not really going anywhere in particular. A few people who had witnessed his interaction with the man in the suit watched him closely, all the while making sure to stay well away from him. Something about Ryan was certainly off. People began skirting around him completely as they noticed something was wrong.

Within a few minutes, an unmarked police car appeared at the corner. Frank Tripp and Eric Delko climbed out.

Ryan saw them from his place about fifty feet down the way. He watched them carefully.

Frank and Eric spotted Ryan, everything about the strange callout suddenly making sense. They began walking slowly toward him, talking quietly to each other.

Ryan watched them come closer, not blinking.

Eric made eye contact with Ryan. "Hey," he said. "Can we talk to you for a second?"

Ryan hesitated. Then he took off sprinting.

"God damn it!" Frank growled, hurrying back to the car as Eric raced after Ryan.

"Hey, stop!" Eric bellowed as he fought to catch Ryan. "Miami-Dade Police! STOP!"

Ryan completely ignored him, bolting across grass and sidewalk as he cut through a small park. People screamed and scattered when they saw him pelting toward them with Eric thundering along a couple dozen feet behind him.

Ryan came to a more open expanse of grass. His feet flew across it lightly as if some otherworldly power coursed through them. The distance between him and Eric was quickly expanding, despite the older man's valiant efforts to keep running at breakneck speed.

Frank suddenly appeared on the street in front of him in the car. He stopped squarely in Ryan's path, forcing him to quickly slow his speed.

That one small moment of hesitation was just enough for Eric to close the gap and launch himself on top of Ryan. He tackled him with the force of a linebacker, and the two of them went down in a tangled heap. Ryan immediately began kicking and wriggling, grunting and crying out as he fought to get away from him, but Eric held him down as Frank fumbled to cuff Ryan's hands behind his back.

"Get off me!" Ryan yelled.

"Take it easy, kid," Frank growled. He was finally successful in snapping the metal cuffs in place around Ryan's wrists.

"Leave me alone!" Ryan screamed.

"We can't do that, man," Eric said quietly.

A small crowd of people had gathered around them, many of them snapping pictures or taking video with their camera phones.

"Hey, get out of here, people!" Eric barked at them. "This is none of your business, move along!"

He helped Frank lift the still-struggling Ryan to his feet and begin guiding him into the backseat of the car. Ryan fought the whole way, squirming and flailing, but the combined strength of the other two men was too much for him to overcome. They managed to push him into the back of the car and shut the door.

Ryan began kicking the back of the seat in front of him as hard as he could, roaring incoherently like a trapped wild animal. Frank and Eric got into the car as calmly as they could, ignoring the steadily growing crowd of onlookers.

"I didn't do anything!" Ryan bellowed desperately, still slamming himself against the seat and kicking with all his might.

Eric turned around to face him, a stony expression on his face, but his eyes were sad.

"If you didn't do anything, why'd you run?" he asked quietly.

* * *

**Author's Note: **TaDa! There you have it. I hope you enjoyed this teensy taste of what's to come! I don't know when the real story will start, unfortunately. I have a lot of research and such to do before I can start getting it up for you all. But I'm really excited, so it'll go as fast as it can. Thanks! :D


	2. Murder Most Foul

**Author's Note: **Just a couple things before we get going here. Backstory and such. I'll try very hard to be brief.

This is a sequel to my story "Demons." If you haven't read that, you will be quite lost at times. I highly recommend you read that first, because there will be heavy references to "Demons" using both events and OCs. This story takes place roughly a year after "Demons" ended.

The only real thing I want to clear up with you guys beforehand is that a great deal of this story will take place in a mental institution. I take the research I put into my stories very seriously, and I truly want to be as accurate as possible. I will warn you right now that a lot of reference material I used were movies, a lot of which I assume are fairly outdated. I have never been in a psychiatric hospital nor do I personally know anyone who has, so I'm sort of running blind here. I promise to try my hardest to be fair, respectful and knowledgable as possible when it comes to dealing with the hospital itself and especially the OC patients you will be meeting in this story. I really hope I do it justice.

Also, I think I'm supposed to warn you that there may actually be a character death somewhere in this one, main character/team member, not one of my OCs (although a couple of those will inevitably snuff it as well). I've never done it before, so I'm not doing anything hasty. At this point, the death would really add to the story, so just as a forewarning, it will probably happen. I'm not gonna tell you when or who, though. That would be no fun!

I was originally planning to hold onto this one for a while until I had a few chapters stocked up... but I can't. I'm just too excited to get it going. I'll try my best to update as fast as possible. That said, I hope you enjoy my latest adventure. I'm incredibly excited to begin it with you all, so without further ado, I humbly present "The Madness Within." ENJOY!

* * *

**I**

**Murder Most Foul**

_Murder most foul, as in the best it is,_

_But this most foul, strange and unnatural._

_- _William Shakespeare, "Hamlet" -

* * *

Mark's footfalls echoed like whispering ghosts, bouncing frantically from concrete wall to concrete wall. Maintenance pipes stretched along the water-stained ceiling as he sprinted down the narrow passageway. His breath came in painstricken gasps. He stole fearful glances behind him every few seconds, sweat pouring down his face.

He had to escape.

Mark tried to ignore the burning in his side as he kept running for all he was worth. He didn't know exactly where he was going; he'd never been down here before. All he knew was if he wanted to stay alive, he needed to put some distance between him and them. He needed to find a way out.

He was swiftly approaching the end of a hallway. He saw some kind of light on the wall, softly emitting from some source to the right. Could it possibly be a way out?

Mark turned the corner. There was a blinding pain in the back of his head and everything went black.

**::|+|::**

Horatio Caine stepped out of the sunlight and into the dimness of the condo. It was far quieter in here, away from the herd of onlookers who had paused their daily business to watch from behind the crime scene tape. He was glad the inside of the condo was at least invisible from the outside. The dead deserved better than to be gawked at by carefree passersby just looking for a thrill or something to make their day a little less boring.

Horatio carefully sidestepped a cherry TV stand, slowly removing the dark sunglasses from his ice-blue eyes. He looked down toward the couch placed about ten feet in front of the TV.

Tom was kneeling on the floor, examining the corpse. The young man had short, curly brown hair and pale skin, as if he didn't get outside much. He looked to be somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He was wearing normal clothes, black slacks and a pale green button-down shirt. Horatio's ironclad stomach twinged ever so slightly when he saw the man was lying facedown in a pool of red-tinged vomit.

"What do we have here, Dr. Loman?" Horatio asked in his quiet, gravelly voice.

Tom looked up at him, a somber look on his face. "I'm not entirely sure, Horatio," he said. "My first impression is suicide."

Horatio looked around at the coffee table. A mostly empty bottle of red wine was there, but there was no accompanying glass. There was also a white plastic medication bottle of some kind. He slipped on a latex glove and picked it up to examine it more closely. He could feel the bottle was empty as he held it up to his eyes.

"I've got an empty bottle of antidepressants here," Horatio remarked, frowning.

"Those should never be mixed with alcohol," Tom said, shaking his head.

Horatio looked down at the table again. There was some kind of white powder residue on it.

"Looks like he crushed up the pills," Horatio said quietly. "Maybe mixed them with the wine?"

"An overdose would certainly explain the vomit," Tom said. "And even if both the bottle of wine and medication weren't full, it would have been more than enough to do the trick."

The sunlight shifted as two more people entered the condo. Horatio nodded to his CSIs.

"Where do you need us, H?" Walter asked. Ryan didn't say anything, just watched Horatio expectantly.

"Start going through the house," Horatio told them. "See if you can find a suicide note or something to indicate why he might have done this. Also look for any contact information for his family."

"I'll start in the bedroom," Walter said, heading toward the back of the condo.

"I'll stay out here, then," Ryan answered, beginning to scan the room thoroughly.

There were a few moments of silence as they all did their work.

"Our vic's name is Dr. Mark Warren," Frank reported, breaking the silence as he walked in from the outside. "Neighbor said he lives here with his girlfriend. She didn't have a name for her, though."

"Who found the body?" Ryan asked.

"Package delivery guy," Frank answered. "Looked through the window when nobody answered the door."

"This is weird!" Tom suddenly piped up from his position on the floor next to the body. Everyone turned to look at him. "This doesn't make sense for a suicide!"

"What doesn't?" Frank asked sourly. It looked like a pretty cut-and-dry case to him. He liked simple.

"The position of the body isn't typical of suicide," Tom explained. "And neither is the means. He's sprawled out in a position that suggests he was going for the phone over here. As if he wanted to call for help but was too overcome by the drugs and alcohol to get there before he died."

"Maybe he had second thoughts," Ryan suggested quietly.

"What do you mean by the means, doctor?" Horatio asked.

"Suicide by overdose is far more common in females than males," Tom said. "Statistics tell us most male suicides do so either using a gun or jumping off of something. Not to say it's impossible that a man would choose this way... It's just odd."

They all thought in silence for a few seconds.

"Mr. Wolfe, I'm going to take these bottles back to the lab," Horatio said. "Call me if you or Walter find anything."

"You got it, H."

As Horatio was depositing the bottles into their separate evidence bags, a new voice was suddenly heard outside. A woman's voice.

"Get out of my way!" she snapped, a hint of panic in her tone. She spoke in some sort of foreign accent. "What's happened? Where's Mark?"

"Sounds like the girlfriend's home," Ryan remarked, turning his back on the front door to examine some bookshelves behind him.

"Officer, let her in," Horatio ordered.

Light footsteps crossed the threshold of the door. There was a gasp and dead silence as the woman stared at the body of her lover on the floor.

"Mr. Wolfe," Horatio suddenly said sharply.

Ryan frowned and quickly turned around. His eyes found what Horatio was staring at. Creamy mocha-colored skin, long raven hair, eyes the color of wet earth...

Ryan's jaw dropped.

The woman turned to look at Ryan. Her red, tear-filled eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Ryan?" she gasped.

He was so surprised, he could barely choke out his response.

"Jay?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **So there you have it! The official beginning has officially... begun. lol. I sincerely hope you'll consider leaving a review. There's really no greater gift than to see that one's work is being read let alone enjoyed. I always get incredibly grateful and excited when people review each chapter as they come out. After all, I am doing this for free, ya know. ;)

And yes, that is Dr. Jayashi Karishma, my beloved Indian OC from "Demons"! Of course she would come back ;). But I've already gone and put her in trouble! What happened to Mark? DID JAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT? Wait and see :P. Thanks for reading!


	3. Questions

**II**

**Questions**

_Murder is not the crime of criminals, but that of law-abiding citizens._

- Emmanuel Teney -

* * *

Ryan couldn't think of a single thing to say. He sat across the table from Jay, watching as she silently clutched the plastic bottle of water he'd gotten her. She was staring at the table blankly, her eyes red and puffy and her silky black hair was tousled.

She had gone with them silently when they said they needed to take her to the station to interview her. She hadn't even put up the slightest bit of a fight when Horatio had asked her for her fingerprints. She had barely flinched when a patrol officer began gently pressing her fingertips on a pad of ink and then transferring them to a blank ten-card. When it was done, she had silently cleaned off her hands with a wet wipe.

Jay was clearly in shock even though her tears had long ceased to flow. Ryan wanted so much to reach out to her, tell her everything was going to be all right and he would find out what happened to Mark.

She had saved his life, after all. He owed her everything. If it hadn't been for Jay's tireless efforts and minor application of jujitsu, he might have died last year when he'd been dosed with that crazy doctor's neurotoxin. With the team's help, especially Natalia's, she'd given him back his life.

But right now, he couldn't be her friend. There was a death to be solved here. Although preliminary observation had suggested it was a suicide, Ryan had to do his job and investigate. That included interrogating possible witnesses or suspects, and right now Jay was one or the other.

Horatio walked into the interrogation room and placed a small styrofoam cup of coffee in front of Jay. She gave him a tremulous smile and whispered her thanks.

"Dr. Karishma, I know this is very difficult," Horatio began slowly. "Do you have any idea what happened?"

Jay took a sip of coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. She sighed heavily. "No. This makes absolutely no sense to me," she answered quietly in her delicate voice. Her Indian-tinged British accent was a little more discernible than usual, probably because she was upset.

"What was he on antidepressants for?" Horatio asked.

Jay frowned up at him. "He wasn't," she said confusedly. "Not that I know of."

Horatio opened the case file and pulled out a photograph of the empty medication bottle he'd found at the scene. He slid it across the table to her.

Jay took the photo in her shaking fingers and looked at it closely. Her frown deepened. "I've never seen these before," she remarked. She was silent for a moment as she thought. "I mean... I _suppose_ he could have gotten them at work... Or written himself a prescription..."

She suddenly shook her head. "No," she stated flatly. "He wouldn't. He couldn't!"

Jay glared at Ryan and Horatio, her gaze darting back and forth between them. "Mark wouldn't commit suicide," she insisted. "He was never on antidepressants. He was never diagnosed with a condition. He would never abuse drugs. He never even exhibited the typical signs of depression!"

Ryan's heart twisted. Jay sounded just like every family member that came through here when someone was killed, whether by their own hands or someone else's. It was truly shocking sometimes how little people knew about their own family.

Love is blinding, he guessed.

Jay made an angry growling noise and ran a hand over her hair. "Ever since he started working at that _horrid _place...," she whispered. "I told him not to..."

Ryan and Horatio both shifted at the same time, their mutual interest piqued. "What place, Jay?" Ryan asked.

She sighed again. "Marble Tree. It's a psychiatric hospital in Miami Beach. The disreputable part."

"Did he have problems at work?" Horatio asked.

Jay rubbed her forehead, looking exhausted. "He said it was a strange place. He never really told me why he thought so. But sometimes he would come home and would just seem so... preoccupied. He always shrugged me off, but I could tell something was bothering him about that place. But then again, working with mentally ill patients always takes a toll on us."

With those last few words, Jay met Ryan's eyes, her gaze full of emotion. He looked back at her evenly, understanding shining within his hazel eyes.

Jay gave him a small smile and reached across the table to put her warm hand atop his. "There's not a day that goes by when I don't wish all of my patients would come through like you did."

A sad smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. "I was lucky," he said quietly.

Horatio watched them silently, barely moving. Ever since he'd been declared fit for duty about a month after his brush with death at the hands of Dr. Franci, Ryan had never spoken about the ordeal. None of the team had ever pressed him, either. However horrible it had been for them to see, they knew his poison-induced spiral into madness had been a thousand times more terrible for Ryan. In the time immediately following that nightmare, he claimed to not remember much. But sometimes he got a look in his eyes that told Horatio he was keeping something bottled up inside.

Suicide cases especially seemed to hit home for Ryan these days. He'd always been effected by his work, one of the things that made him so good at it, but some things were different now. Horatio assumed it was because each time Ryan saw someone who had destroyed their own life, it forced him to remember how close he'd come to doing the exact same thing. Granted, he'd been under the influence of a severely mind-altering substance, but that didn't make it any less scary.

Jay removed her hand from Ryan's. "Anyway...," she said quietly. "I never liked the look or feeling of that place. I'd been there a few times, like if any of my patients had to be housed there for a time until a bed opened up in my ward. Mental patients are always a little disconcerting, but this place was different. Like there's something wrong there."

Horatio frowned. "How so?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's silly. It just has a history of being a little shady."

"That doesn't sound silly, it sounds like we should be looking into this place," Horatio remarked.

Jay shrugged gracefully. "There have been investigations in the past. Nothing's ever turned up. And even if something did..." She looked down at her hands, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "That wouldn't explain why Mark would kill himself."

Ryan's heart went out to her. This woman saved him. He would do anything to help her find the truth about her lover's death.

"Maybe not," he told her quietly. "But it might explain why someone would want him dead."

* * *

**Author's Note: **You like so far? :D I do, so there! haha. Jay seems pretty distraught about her boyfriend... but does she know more than she's letting on? What is this Marble Tree place she was talking about? Find out more later!

lol I'm acting like Melxxwholuvsya with the questions at the end of the chapters. Oh, on that note, if you're looking for another good story to read, go check out Mel's "Sounds of Screaming." It's awesome! And me. fergie's "Breaking lives down to their knees" is fantastic too for all you Wolfe Packers out there. Go leave them lots of reviews! haha


	4. Murder or Suicide?

**Author's Note: **By the way, since this is set somewhere in season 10 or so, Eric and Calleigh are back together in this fic. Not married or anything, just back doing their season 8 thing. I'm assuming/hoping TPTB will let them and all the HipHuggers out there have their happiness sooner or later and finally just let it alone. Sigh.

* * *

**III**

**Murder or Suicide?**

_Murderers will try to recall the sequence of the events, they will remember exactly what they did just before and just after. But they can never remember the actual moment of killing. This is why they will always leave a clue. _

- Peter Ackroyd -

* * *

"Has Wolfe said anything to you?" Walter asked Calleigh as they walked together toward the ME building.

"No," she answered, leading the way inside toward the morgue. "And I didn't want to bring it up. He's been doing so well..."

"Yeah," he said. "It must be weird, though. He stopped having to go see Dr. Karishma for check-ups a long time ago. It must have been a shock to see her again at the scene of a suicide of all things."

"Tom seemed a little doubtful when I talked to him," Calleigh said. "As if he wasn't completely convinced it was a suicide."

"What's there to doubt? The guy OD'd on his depression meds. Open and shut."

"You know Tom," Calleigh said, grinning. "When he gets a hunch, he just runs with it until he hits the truth."

They entered the autopsy room together. Dr. Loman had Mark Warren laid out and ready for them. He was busily printing the body as he waited for them.

"Hi, Tom," Calleigh greeted sweetly. "Is this Mark Warren?"

"Indeed it is," Tom answered. "_Dr. _Mark Warren."

"Like Ph.D. doctor or like you doctor?" Walter asked.

Tom looked at him wryly. "MD. He was a neuropsychologist."

"Just like Jay," Calleigh remarked offhandedly. "They must have met at work."

"So, did you find us a cause of death?" Walter asked.

Tom gave them a mischievous look. "Take a guess."

Calleigh glanced at Walter amusedly. He looked back at her exasperatedly.

"Overdose?" Walter asked dully.

Tom smirked. "Strike one."

"No?" Calleigh repeated, surprised. "Really?"

"Really really," Tom said. "Dr. Warren here drowned. In his own vomit."

Walter's face screwed up in disgust. "Ugh. Hell of a way to go."

"So he overdosed, had second thoughts and decided to call for help," Calleigh thought out loud. "Fell, was too overcome by the combination of the drugs and the wine to move, threw up where he was and drowned in it. Sound right?"

"Just about," Tom said. "But there was another interesting thing I found. I analyzed his stomach contents. I found a whole lot of wine, but no pills or pill capsules."

"Horatio said he found white powder on the table at the scene," Walter pointed out. "So our vic must have crushed up the pills and put them into the wine. He wanted them to be easy to swallow, probably."

"Wait, there's more!" Tom quipped.

Calleigh raised her eyebrows at Walter. "There's more," she said seriously.

"He sustained a blow to the back of the head, probably giving him one nasty concussion," Tom said.

"Could he have gotten that from falling off the sofa or something?" Calleigh asked.

"According to my findings, the wound went through at least an hour's worth of healing before he died. And I also found wine in his lungs," Tom told them.

Walter frowned. "So he aspirated the wine after he threw it up."

"Strike two," Tom replied. "The wine in his lungs was never digested. It came right from the bottle. He would have been choking all over it, but it kept coming. As if he couldn't stop it."

"Or someone was helping it along," Calleigh said softly.

"So this really could have been murder?" Walter asked confusedly.

"That's _your _job to find out," Tom pointed out mildly.

**::|+|::**

Eric looked up when Calleigh walked into his fingerprints lab. The usual twinge in his heart squeezed when his eyes met hers. He smiled at her.

"Hey, beautiful."

She beamed at him. "Hey, handsome. Is that the wine bottle from the Warren case?"

He nodded. "I only found a couple prints on it, but they're running now."

"Well, here you go," she said, handing over the ten-card Tom had made for Mark Warren. "These are from our victim."

"You think it's murder or suicide?" Eric asked, taking the paper from her and scanning it into the computer. "The whole lab seems to be split in half."

"With each piece of evidence we dig up, it looks more and more like murder," she told him. "I'm reserving judgment."

He chuckled. "Good call."

The computer beeped. She stood next to him to read over his shoulder.

"Fingerprints on the wine bottle are not a match to our victim," Eric read, his brow furrowed in confusion. "None of them are. He never touched it."

"A little hard to kill yourself with something you never touched," Calleigh remarked dryly.

The computer beeped again. Eric's frown deepened.

"There's only one person's prints on this bottle," he told her. His brown eyes were concerned as he looked at her.

"They match Ryan's friend Jay."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh dear, Jay's looking guiltier by the second! Did she do it? Keep reading to find out! And remember, reviews are like dark chocolate-covered pretzels in September (or November!) :P


	5. Suspicion

**IV**

**Suspicion**

_Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time, but tardy justice will o'ertake the crime._

- John Dryden -

* * *

"H, there's no way Jay could have done this," Ryan said hotly.

He was talking with Horatio in private outside of the interrogation room. Eric had called them after he'd processed all the fingerprint evidence. Jay was swiftly ascending their list of prime suspects. In fact, she was their only suspect. But something in Ryan's gut told him there had to be another explanation.

"I know you have a personal relationship with her...," Horatio said quietly, trying to pacify his ruffled CSI. "But you know we can't let emotions get in the way of an investigation."

"You don't know her like I do," Ryan insisted.

"I know I don't, Mr. Wolfe," Horatio answered. "We're not rushing anything. Let's just see where the evidence takes us. Okay?"

Ryan sighed. "Okay."

They reentered the room. Jay looked up when they came in. Horatio placed a photograph of the wine bottle in front of her.

"Dr. Karishma," he said quietly, trying to keeping any semblance of accusation from his voice. "The antidepressants were crushed up and mixed into this bottle of wine, the mixture of which killed Mark. His fingerprints weren't on the bottle, but yours were. Could you explain that, please?"

Jay nodded. "It's mine, I bought it. Mark always preferred beer or cognac. He never drank wine much. But if he never touched it, then that means he didn't kill himself, right?"

Ryan looked at Horatio, who hesitated for a moment. "It does appear that Mark was indeed murdered."

Some sort of invisible burden seemed to be lifted off of Jay's shoulders. She relaxed ever so slightly in her seat, but her eyes were still haunted as she dropped her gaze to her lap.

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel much better," she muttered.

"Dr. Karishma, where were you this morning?" Horatio asked delicately.

She looked up at him, her eyes sharp. She didn't answer for a moment, knowing full well that she was under suspicion here. "I worked a double shift yesterday. I was at work from 8 o'clock yesterday morning until 8 this morning. My whole department can vouch for me."

Ryan nodded. "Is there anyone you can think of who might want to hurt you or Mark? Exes, enemies at work?"

Jay thought hard for a moment, but ultimately she shook her head. "I don't have any problems with anyone. Not that I can recall. And Mark was always well-respected by his colleagues. He stayed out of the political game, he was always in it for the patients."

"We'll find out who did this, Jay," Ryan assured her. "I promise."

A grateful smile flickered on her lips. "Thank you, Ryan."

**::|+|::**

Natalia meticulously flipped through the case files, looking for anything that might help them. There had been three previous investigations in the past seven years into this mental institution. Marble Tree. But all had been closed without turning anything up.

The first happened seven years ago. A woman filed a police report against the hospital staff because she had believed her son, a bipolar patient, was being mistreated there. Natalia read that the woman claimed she would find strange bruises on her son's arms when she came to visit, but her son either wouldn't or couldn't tell her where they had come from.

The police had sent a single unit out to check it out. But the case was closed without any evidence gathered or really any investigation at all. It was assumed that the boy was simply injuring himself during his manic fits. His mother checked him out immediately following the close of the case. She moved with him out to Colorado to be near family.

Natalia shut that folder and put it down. Dead end. She picked up the next one.

Four years ago, a man filed a report that his sister actually got sicker after being admitted into Marble Tree. She was a schizophrenic, suffering from paranoia and delusions. He claimed her nightmares got worse in the hospital and the staff was obviously not taking good enough care of her. She would tell him about monsters in her ward and she was so frightened that she stopped eating and sleeping. The case was dismissed after she committed suicide in her room using a piece of broken glass she'd found outside. Her brother had continued to fight the dismissal until he died in an unrelated car accident three years later.

Natalia sighed and shut that folder too. Another dead end.

The last file was the most recent and probably the most promising. This one was actually filed six months ago by a doctor who worked at Marble Tree. Natalia furrowed her brow in interest and read on.

Dr. Alexandra Schaeffer filed a complaint against her colleague at the institution, a Dr. Lisa Murphy. She claimed Murphy was abusing patients and illegally using them for research of her thesis. She could never tell the police exactly what she was doing to the patients, and Dr. Murphy obviously denied the charges. All the evidence, what little there was, was unfortunately circumstantial. It was a stalemate of she-said-she-said, and the case was dropped.

Dr. Schaeffer resigned from her post at Marble Tree immediately following the dismissal. She now worked for an outpatient clinic in Atlanta. Dr. Murphy remained at Marble Tree and still worked there, according to the follow-up report.

Natalia chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. This Dr. Schaeffer seemed to be their best bet in getting some kind of insider's opinion on this place. And if Natalia was getting the timeline correctly, Mark Warren was probably her replacement. Perhaps they knew each other or had corresponded in some way.

Something instinctual fluttered in the pit of Natalia's stomach. After seeing what this kind of science could do to someone when in the wrong hands, she was very wary of it. Ever since Ryan had almost been taken away from her just because some twisted genius decided to practice her little god complex on him, ever since that psychic had used drugs to screw with Natalia's own mind, she was very sensitive to these kinds of sick, senseless crimes.

She could just tell that all of these investigations proving to be fruitless couldn't possibly be a coincidence. She knew deep down something sinister was going on in that hospital.

And she was going to find out what.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So Jay's innocent. But this Marble Tree place is sounding sketchier by the second, isn't it? Something tells me we'll be hearing more from it soon... ;)

Reviews are like Shirley Temples with two cherries instead of just one! :D Or really anything with two cherries instead of just one lol.


	6. Friends and Fathers

**V**

**Friends and Fathers**

_Justice is the truth in action._

- Joseph Joubert -

* * *

"We'll be in touch with you every step of the way," Ryan assured Jay as he walked with her outside. "The second we know something, I will call you. Okay?"

Jay smiled sadly at him, her eyes full. "Thank you, Ryan."

They came to the end of the sidewalk, a white taxi parked on the curb.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Ryan asked her. "Your place won't be released for a few days at least..."

Jay nodded. "My sister lives nearby. I'll stay with her."

"Good," he said. He opened the back door of the cab for her. "Don't hesitate to call me if there's anything at all I can do for you."

She clasped his arm warmly. "You're sweet, Ryan," she said. "All I want is for Mark's killer to be found and dealt with, and I know you and your team will do that. I've seen what you can do. I trust you."

"We're going to do everything we can," he assured her.

"I know," she replied. "I just wish it were easier. Even if Mark working at Marble Tree had anything to do with it, it's going to be impossible to prove anything."

Ryan frowned. "What makes you say that?"

She sighed. "That place is a complete mystery to everyone except the employees and the patients. There's more than just a gate and some walls keeping the secrets within. It's impenetrable from the outside in every sense."

Jay suddenly drew close to him and pulled him into a hug. Then she gave him a small peck on the cheek. "Thank you again, Ryan."

Ryan watched silently as she got into the cab and it drove away, his thoughts ticking madly. He took out his cell phone and called the all too familiar number.

"Horatio, it's Ryan. Can you meet me somewhere private? I need to talk to you."

**::|+|::**

The locker room was deserted when Ryan and Horatio walked inside. Still, Ryan checked the whole room thoroughly before coming back to his lieutenant.

"Mr. Wolfe, is everything all right?" Horatio asked concernedly. His CSI was getting that tell-tale look in his eye again.

Ryan thought about his words carefully before he began. "I was thinking about something Jay said before she left... She said this mental hospital is a mystery to everyone except people on the inside."

Horatio nodded his understanding, but didn't say anything.

"And right now, investigating this hospital would be our best lead, right?"

"I'd agree," Horatio answered, letting Ryan continue with his train of thought.

"But we don't have cause for a warrant. And they're not gonna let us in just because we say please," Ryan continued.

Horatio remained silent. He suddenly didn't like where this was going...

"I think there should be an undercover investigation," Ryan finished. "We have no evidence. We might be able to get some at this place."

Horatio thought this idea over very carefully. "That could be beneficial..."

"And I want to be the one to go in."

Horatio met Ryan's eyes sharply. The younger man was gazing at him evenly. He knew full well what he was asking. Horatio saw in those hazel depths the hunger to solve this mystery, a drive that all but extinguished the tiniest spark of fear.

"I would consider backing an undercover assignment, Mr. Wolfe," Horatio said clearly, still meeting his eyes. "But I can't let you do it."

Anger immediately erupted inside Ryan's chest. "What? Why the hell not?"

Horatio didn't answer, merely dropped his icy gaze down to the pair of sunglasses he was twirling idly in his hands.

Ryan sighed, trying to vent out some his temper. "You _can't_ let me or you _won't_ let me?" he asked tightly.

Horatio echoed Ryan's sigh. He sounded tired. "It's too dangerous. We need to get someone from homicide or maybe even take this to the government level. We need someone who is specially trained for undercover work."

Ryan stared at him, dumbstruck. "I might have believed that was the real reason if you hadn't mentioned bringing in the feds," he said quietly.

Horatio met his eyes again. There was a deep pain betrayed behind the watery blue. He didn't have to say anything for Ryan to understand.

Ryan looked at the floor. "Look H, I know you're worried about me. But I'm really fine," he said quietly. "I'm ready for this. I've done undercover stuff before, I'm just as trained as anyone in homicide. I want to do this."

Horatio didn't answer.

"I'm the best one for the job," Ryan continued. "I can pull it off better than anyone, you know how good a liar I am."

He paused for a moment and swallowed thickly before going on.

"And I'm the only one who actually knows firsthand what it's like to be insane."

Horatio opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan pushed onward.

"I know that's exactly why you don't think I should do this," Ryan said. "But I need you to believe in me."

His words struck a chord within Horatio's heart. "I _do _believe in you, Mr. Wolfe..."

"Then let me do this. Please."

For once, Horatio didn't know what to do. As a police officer, he knew what Ryan had said about him being the most believable person for the job was true, and this investigation would swiftly come to a close without any new leads and soon.

But...

He had come so close to losing Ryan a year ago. He'd pried a loaded gun from Ryan's hand as he had it pressed to his own head. He'd held him as he battled the madness that had ridden him through more pain and confusion than most people could bear. And even with everyone fighting for and alongside him, Ryan almost hadn't made it.

With Kyle off fighting in the war, Horatio had come to see his team as his family more than ever. Ryan was like a son to him, no matter how much he tried to remain steadfast in solidarity. He couldn't bear to lose either of them, not after he'd lost so much already. He knew if he let Ryan do this assignment, he would worry about him every single day he was under like he did for Kyle.

But Ryan wasn't Kyle. He was a grown man, a full-fledged police officer and CSI. His war was closer to home. It wasn't Horatio's place to shield him from the world.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Horatio sighed again. Then he nodded.

Ryan seemed to relax, a grateful and satisfied look on his face. "Thank you, H," he said wholeheartedly.

Horatio didn't say anything in reply, a sneaking feeling of regret already beginning to creep into his heart.

Ryan noticed Horatio's look of concern.

"H, I'll be okay," he assured. "It's a hospital. People go there to get medical help. How dangerous could it be?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yeah, H. How dangerous could it be? ... ... :D

Reviews are like ice cream cake! With extra chocolate crunchies! AND CHERRIES! haha

P.S. This chapter is dedicated to Mel. She knows why! (hint: It's 'cause she's one awesome Irish chick!) :D


	7. IAB

**VI**

**IAB**

_Whoever starts out toward the unknown must consent to venture alone._

- Andre Gide -

* * *

"I don't see why we can't just take this directly to the chief," Ryan muttered sourly.

"We need two signatures before we go to him with your proposal," Horatio said. "You already have mine. The second one shouldn't be a problem."

"But why does it have to come from IAB?" Ryan demanded in a hushed voice.

Horatio smirked wryly. "They're not all like Stetler, Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, okay."

They finally came to the office they were looking for. Horatio tapped on the glass door with one knuckle.

A middle-aged woman looked up from a meticulously neat desk. She had shoulder-length auburn hair, the top half of which was pulled back from her face. Her cheeks were pink and full, her chin strong and stubborn. Blue eyes sparkled beneath lightly shadowed lids. She wore a no-nonsense suit, but something about her was nevertheless cheerful. Ryan couldn't quite put his finger on it.

When she saw who was standing at her door, she smiled warmly and stood from her desk. Her belly was round in pregnancy, looking to be nearly full-term.

_Oh._

"Horatio, how are you?" she asked kindly, walking forward to shake his hand.

The redhead returned the gesture. "Well, Hannah. And you?"

She patted her tummy wryly. "Still dealing with this one for a little longer," she answered. "She likes kicking me awake at night, but I suppose I'll miss that once she's screaming and crying instead."

Horatio smirked. "Congratulations. Give my regards to Anthony."

"I'll do that," she said. She turned to Ryan. "And you must be Officer Wolfe."

Ryan shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh yes, I've heard an awful lot about you," she told him, eyeing him mischeviously. "Come on in, take a seat."

Ryan and Horatio obeyed, sitting side by side in front of her desk as Hannah plopped back down into her own chair. She rubbed the back of her neck tiredly.

"I heard you found out who was embezzling from the retirees' fund," Horatio said. "Good work."

Hannah waved a hand at him. "Frederickson was an idiot for doing it in the first place. I mean, who takes money from retired police officers and their families? Talk about bad apples."

"Well, I'm just glad you're here to protect all of our reputations," Horatio joked.

Hannah grinned at him wickedly. "Okay, Caine, why are you buttering me up? One of your kids get in trouble again? Was it this one?" she asked, pointing at Ryan.

Horatio smirked. "It has to do with him, but he's not in trouble. Quite the opposite, actually."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh? What do you have for me?"

"We need your approval for an undercover assignment," Horatio said, handing her a small packet of papers. She took it and immediately began perusing it, a serious look on her face. "Mr. Wolfe here wants to pass himself off as a patient at Marble Tree Psychiatric Hospital in order to get an insider's view of the place. We think it's connected to a murder."

Hannah narrowed her eyes at Ryan as if examining him. "I find it hard to believe you _want_ to impersonate a psych patient," she said.

"The undercover detail was my idea, ma'am," Ryan told her.

"I see... Well, why you? Why not someone from homicide? Someone with more experience?" she asked.

"I have personal experience in dealing with mentally ill patients, ma'am," he told her. "I'm well aware of their behavioral patterns and I am confident I can mimic them successfully."

She gazed at him closely, her eyes almost as icy as Horatio's. "Right..." she said softly. "I remember hearing about that. About year ago, was it?"

Ryan swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

She made a thoughtful noise. "So what's the plan? You enter the hospital and then what? Do reconnaissance?

Ryan nodded. "I will gather intel on the employees and patients, anyone who may have had contact with our victim."

"And a search warrant won't suffice because...?"

"No cause, ma'am. And it's not considered a public place," Ryan told her. "We can't just walk in and look around as police officers. I believe if we made it known they were under investigation, they would hide or destroy any evidence."

"Right now, our victim's death is being classified as a suicide," Horatio explained. "They'd have no reason to suspect there was an investigation if it remained as such. Mr. Wolfe's cover would be safe so long as the police kept their distance."

Hannah nodded, taking in and mulling over all of this information. "Well, it sounds all right to me," she said. "I would however, be lying if I didn't say I was somewhat concerned about how you might deal with the heavy stress of such an assignment. Considering what happened last year."

Ryan didn't really know what to say to that. He opened his mouth to speak, but Horatio spoke first.

"Mr. Wolfe is an exemplary member of my team," he said confidently. "He has shown great diligence in rehabilitating and getting back into the swing of things at work. He was cleared by his doctor and our department. He has done nothing but impeccable work ever since. I have every confidence in his abilities."

Ryan flushed at the high praise. He didn't think he'd ever heard Horatio say so many words at once, and to have them all be positive remarks about his work... Wow.

Hannah thought for a moment, then nodded. "All right, Horatio. If you think he's up to it, then I'll sign off on the assignment. You know him better than I do."

She signed her name to the bottom of the paper with a flourish of her fountain pen, then handed it back to Horatio.

"Thank you, Hannah," he said.

"You're welcome." She turned her gaze to Ryan. "Good luck, Officer."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Ryan and Horatio stood up together and left the office without looking back. Ryan couldn't help but feel as if something bizarre had just happened. He'd never had such a non-accusatory conversation with an IAB officer before.

"The chief has never denied a proposal that has both mine and Hannah's signatures," Horatio told him quietly. There was a hint of sadness in voice. "If you're still sure you want to do this, I'll submit it to him immediately."

"Thanks, H," Ryan said.

They walked together in silence for a moment.

"Hey, H," Ryan suddenly said. "Before you do that, there's just one thing I think I should do."

Horatio nodded. He was pretty sure he knew what Ryan was talking about.

* * *

**Author's Note: **See, IAB isn't ALL bad! lol I have no idea, I just thought it'd be fun to show a nicer side of them for once. There are crooked cops after all, they're not all like our CSIs. IAB gets such a bad rep.


	8. A Team Divided

**VII**

**A Team Divided**

_Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death._

- Earl Wilson -

* * *

"You ready?" Horatio asked Ryan.

His CSI flashed a crooked, half-hearted smile. "I think I'm more worried about this than the actual assignment," he admitted.

Horatio smirked. "It'll be all right."

Ryan took a deep breath, then took the few steps to the door and walked inside the room.

His four teammates were all assembled inside the break room, talking animatedly among themselves. Ryan's heart inexplicably panged at the sight of Eric, Calleigh, Walter and Natalia. It was slowly beginning to occur to him what exactly he'd just volunteered himself for.

Natalia smiled at him when he entered. "Hey, Ryan!" she greeted.

He somehow managed to muster a smile at his friend. His heart was starting to pound as he settled into an inconspicuous corner by the door.

When Horatio entered a few seconds later, everyone quieted down. He cut straight to the chase.

"The Mark Warren case is quickly coming to a dead end," he said quietly.

"Only one of the three previous Marble Tree cases looks promising," Natalia said. "One of the complaints filed was by a doctor who now works in Atlanta. I left a message at her home, work and cell numbers on file."

Eric chuckled. "Wow, overkill much?"

Natalia made a face at him. "Seeing as she's the only one related to the cases that isn't either dead or in Colorado, I admit I was a little desperate to get a hold of her."

"Other than that, there's really not much else to go on," Calleigh said. "Half the evidence points to murder and the other half points to suicide. We're stuck without witnesses or fingerprints. At this point, Jay's our only suspect and she has an airtight alibi."

"Which is why we've decided to launch an undercover investigation," Horatio said.

Eric, Natalia, Walter and Calleigh all responded positively to this news. Walter nodded in approval, as did Calleigh. Natalia got an excited look on her face, obviously glad that the case was getting a fresh shot at moving forward. Eric simply looked thoughtful. Ryan watched them silently, knowing full well they wouldn't be quite so happy when they learned one certain detail...

"Someone's going under at Marble Tree?" Walter asked. "That actually got approved?"

Horatio nodded.

"Great," Calleigh said. "Do we have someone in mind? Someone from homicide?"

Eric looked at Ryan, who'd been uncharacteristically silent the whole time. The younger man was standing with his arms folded across his chest, a stony look on his face. Eric frowned, then looked at Horatio. His brother-in-law looked concerned about something. Eric's frown deepened.

_Wait a second..._

"Brett Harris is good," Walter said. "We're old buddies, I could see if he's up for an assignment."

Ryan and Horatio glanced at each other, an exchange unnoticed by everyone but Eric.

"Actually, we already have someone on board," Horatio said quietly.

Natalia raised her eyebrows. "That was fast. Who is it?"

At first no one said anything.

"Me."

Everyone looked at Ryan, sure they had heard him wrong. He looked around at them all, his face set resolutely. Calleigh and Eric glanced at each other worriedly. Natalia stared at Ryan as if he'd just announced he was transferring to Neptune. Walter stood with his mouth agape.

"No," Walter insisted, suddenly the first to find his voice. "No way."

Ryan took a hesitant step toward his friend. "Walter...," he began.

"Absolutely not, Ryan," Walter growled. "You _just _got back on your feet."

"It's been almost a year...," Ryan said defensively, but Walter cut him off.

"I don't believe this!" he cried.

Ryan looked hurt by the outburst. Calleigh and Eric glanced at each other again and then looked at Horatio. Neither of them could believe he would even _consider _giving this assignment to Ryan of all people. After all he'd been through... and recently too.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room. Natalia stared at Ryan, tears pooling in her chocolate-brown eyes. Ryan had to look away when he met her eyes.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Walter demanded.

Ryan's temper flared, his expression hardening. "Look, I'm the best one for the job. I can fit in as a psych patient better than anybody," he told them flat out, his voice steely. "It's already been approved and decided. I just wanted you to know before I leave tomorrow."

Natalia gasped audibly. "Tomorrow?" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. "So soon?"

Ryan nodded, still unable to meet her eyes. "I need to start preparing, laying my paper trail. I wanted you to know, but you can't say anything to anybody. The fewer people who know about this assignment, the better."

No one said anything.

"I'll be in touch," he assured them. "Jay will be acting as my doctor, so she'll be visiting me weekly and she'll get my information to you."

"Weekly?" Calleigh asked quietly. "How long exactly are you planning to be there?"

"As long as it takes," he replied, straining to sound casual.

Eric looked around the room at his colleagues. They were all upset and confused, especially Walter and Natalia. He watched Ryan. His friend looked lost, as if he were fighting down the fear of this dangerous assignment and his friends' reactions were doing nothing to calm his nerves.

Ryan had already decided he was going to do this, and Eric knew there was never talking that guy out of anything once he'd set his mind to it.

Ryan met Eric's eyes. In that one look were more words than the tongue could ever utter. Eric sighed quietly. He might not have been able to talk Ryan out of this, but he certainly looked like he could use some support.

Eric nodded to Ryan in understanding.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh dear, there's dissention among the ranks! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!


	9. See You Later

**VIII**

**See You Later**

_We won't say our goodbyes_

_You know it's better that way_

_We won't break, we won't die_

_It's just a moment of change._

- OneRepublic, "All We Are" -

* * *

Ryan slowly closed his locker door, something in his chest tightening when it clinked shut. It was as if that one metallic sound meant there was no turning back now. Not that he wanted to anyway. Still, he couldn't help but be a little apprehensive.

He turned and walked out of the locker room, refusing to look back. He was going to get through this. More than that, he was going to kick this assignment's ass! He smirked at the humorous thought.

_That's it, Wolfe_, he thought. _Stay positive._

His feet carried him down the familiar path to the back of the lab toward Horatio's office. He didn't see any of his teammates along the way. His heart sank. They'd been distant from him ever since he and Horatio had announced he was going undercover the day before. Ryan couldn't really blame them; he hadn't expected them to be jumping for joy exactly. He was certain Eric and Calleigh were simply giving him space so he could focus and not feel overwhelmed or incompetent. He appreciated that.

But Walter and Natalia...

Ryan found himself outside of Horatio's office. The shades were drawn to give the people inside privacy. He opened the door and stepped in.

Hannah was there waiting for him, sitting in Horatio's chair. The redhead lieutenant was nowhere to be found. She nodded to him when he entered.

"All set, Officer Wolfe?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Okay," she said. "Now for the unpleasant part, unfortunately. Your badge and your gun, please."

Ryan took a breath, then slowly unclipped his badge and his gun holster from his waist. As he placed them gingerly on the desk, he felt as if he'd just surrendered a piece of his soul.

"You'll get them back at the conclusion of the assignment," she told him. "When you leave here today, it has officially begun. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, ma'am," Ryan answered quietly.

She gave him a smile that was small but nonetheless kind. "All right then. Good luck, Officer. Stay safe."

Ryan shook her offered hand. "Thank you."

"I'm interested to hear what you come up with," she added, a touch of levity in her voice. She put a hand on her pregnant belly. "Maybe you can do me a favor and finish this thing up before this one comes along and I'm forced into maternity leave?"

Ryan grinned. "I'll do my best."

"I believe you will indeed."

**::|+|::**

Ryan ambled slowly through the lab, taking in everyone and everything. It was strange to think that this would be the last he saw of them for a while. He had no idea how long he would have to be undercover at Marble Tree, but he knew he would stay as long as it took to find what he was looking for.

He'd miss this place. He'd miss the team.

_Speaking of which..._

He stopped when he saw Walter working in the trace lab. The big guy was typing furiously on one of the computers, processing samples from various cases. He didn't seem to notice Ryan watching him.

Ryan hesitantly walked toward the lab. Walter had been a bit standoffish with him all day. He didn't want to leave like that.

Walter looked up when Ryan walked in, but he immediately and pointedly returned his gaze to his work.

"Walter...?"

He ignored Ryan, but his gaze on the screen was a little too fixed.

"I came to say goodbye...," Ryan prodded.

Still no response.

Ryan's temper flared up. He was stressed out enough as it was, he didn't need this crap!

"Fine," he said huffily, turning to storm out of the lab.

"You're a real dumbass, you know that?" Walter barked at him.

Ryan stopped at the door and turned to glare at Walter. "What the hell is your problem?" he demanded.

"I could ask _you _the same thing!" his friend shot back. "Why you, huh? Why couldn't someone else do it?"

Ryan was thankful there was no one else in the lab. "It was my idea and I wanted to do it," he said hotly. "I'm the best one for the job."

"And you couldn't tell me what you were planning _before_ it was official?"

"I... I didn't want you to talk me out of it," Ryan said a little more quietly.

"Well, I would have at least liked the opportunity," Walter said bitterly. "When will you finally understand that we're in this together, man? We're supposed to be able to trust each other! But you..."

He stopped, a pained look on his face. Ryan didn't know what to say.

Walter sighed. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me last year?" he asked quietly. "Do you have any idea how much it killed me to have to hold you down kicking and screaming because you thought I was trying to hurt you?"

Ryan stood in stunned silence.

"I just want to help you, man," Walter finished tiredly. "But you won't let me."

Ryan swallowed thickly, something tightening in his chest. Silence quilted the trace lab.

"You're right," Ryan finally said. "I know everyone's worried about me. I know it's dangerous, and especially for all of us because of what happened to me last year. But I'm going to be fine. We're all gonna get through this. Walter..."

He was suddenly cut off when Walter grabbed him and pulled him into a giant bear hug. Ryan couldn't help but chuckle, patting his friend's back.

"Walter!" he choked. "You're suffocating me!"

"Just promise me you won't do anything stupid," Walter commanded gruffly, releasing him from his vicelike hold.

"Me?" Ryan asked innocently, grinning crookedly. "Never."

**::|+|::**

"Be safe," Calleigh told him, giving Ryan a hug. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

"I won't," he promised, letting go of her. He turned to Eric. He smiled and offered his hand to him.

Eric smirked and shook his hand. "See you in a few days, then."

Ryan grinned wickedly. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I," Eric retorted deviously.

The three of them stood in silence for a moment in front of the elevator. Ryan looked around, his face starting to look anxious. His friends noticed.

"You okay?" Calleigh asked. "Have everything you need?"

"Oh, yeah," Ryan said offhandedly. "It's just... Have either of you seen Natalia?"

Eric and Calleigh glanced at each other concernedly.

"Last I saw, she was out in the field," Eric answered. "Sorry, man."

Ryan shrugged them off casually. "Oh, it's fine," he said, his voice sounding strained in its light tone. "Just uh... tell her I say goodbye."

Calleigh smiled and nodded. "We'll do that."

Ryan nodded. He took one last look around the lab, took a deep breath, then entered the stairwell.

Calleigh looked at Eric worriedly. "She didn't say goodbye to him?" she asked.

"I guess not."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal a very flustered-looking Natalia. She practically dove out of it and hurried toward Eric and Calleigh, her eyes full.

"Have you seen Ryan?" she cried.

Calleigh and Eric pointed to the stairwell. Natalia thanked them and sprinted to the door and disappeared inside.

They looked at each other, smiling knowingly.

**::|+|::**

"Ryan!"

He froze when he heard that familiar voice yelling his name from somewhere on the stairs above him. He heard clattering footsteps racing down toward him. Natalia came into view and launched herself at him. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shirt, holding on to him with all her strength.

"Please don't go," she begged, tears leaking out of her eyes. "Please don't do this."

Ryan held her tightly, his own heart aching. He hated to upset her like this. "I have to, Natalia," he whispered. "It'll be okay. This isn't goodbye."

"There's something really wrong about that place!" she cried. "I don't want you to go there, _please_! There has to be another way!"

Ryan sighed, still holding on to her tightly. He didn't need to say it. He knew she knew the truth of the matter. This was the only way to find out what was going on in that hospital.

Natalia sighed, brushing the tears from her cheeks and pulling away from him slightly. She put her hands on his shoulders and gripped tightly, gazing straight into his eyes.

"You be careful," she ordered him. "You stay safe. You find out what's going on, but if you get in over your head, _you bail_. Got it?"

He smiled sadly at her. "Got it."

She hugged him again. "Good."

She turned away from him to return upstairs. When she had made it up about five or six steps, Ryan spoke again.

"Hey, Boa Vista!"

Natalia turned to look down at him.

He grinned. "See you later."

Despite herself, she smiled. "See you later, Ryan."

**::|+|::**

Ryan stopped on the steps outside. He'd lost count of how many times he'd found himself outside this building, his second home. Sometimes he thought his condo was actually his second home. This lab, with these people, was where he really felt at home.

He turned to look at it one more time.

Horatio was standing in one of the windows, watching him. Ryan snorted in amusement. He was silly to think he'd get out of here without saying goodbye to that man.

Ryan raised a hand in farewell. Horatio nodded to him. Ryan nodded back, then began the walk to his car. He was beginning to feel better already.

If there was one thing he learned from this job, it was that this place, his home, where his family was, would always be there.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And there he goes... But surely this assignment will be totally easy. Safe, too. What could possibly go wrong? ... ... *crickets* lol


	10. Preparations

**IX**

**Preparations**

_From yesterday it's coming_

_From yesterday the fear_

_From yesterday it calls him_

_But he doesn't wanna read the message here._

- 30 Seconds to Mars, "From Yesterday" -

* * *

Ryan ran a hand through his mussed up hair, waiting for the coffee to be ready. His kitchen was in its usual pristine condition. The tile floors and the marble countertops were gleaming. There wasn't a speck of dirt or food crumbs anywhere. He would have to enjoy the cleanliness while he could; he had a sneaking suspicion that Marble Tree would be not quite up to his own standards in that department.

It was a bizarre feeling to still be home at 9 a.m. on a weekday. He'd slept in for the first time in what felt like years. He'd turned off his alarm clock, though his internal one still had woken him up at the usual time. Only today he simply rolled over and went back to sleep.

He had four days to get ready. As far as most people at the lab knew, he was taking some vacation time off for a family death. But the next few days would hardly be a vacation. Ryan had a lot of things to do in those four days.

He wanted to make sure all of his finances were in order, for starters. Coming home from this assignment just to find he'd somehow managed to accrue a lifetime's worth of debt would be no fun whatsoever. He had an appointment at the bank the next morning.

He was also meeting with his lawyer the next day to update his will, something he thought was strange and a little morbid to be thinking about. But he knew he wouldn't feel completely ready without doing it. Making sure that all of his affairs were in order before he left would ensure that he could focus solely on his mission.

The red light on the coffeemaker flicked on. As he picked up the pot and started pouring himself a steaming mug of the brown liquid, he glanced at his fully-stocked refrigerator out of the corner of his eye.

Yeah... He'd have to get started eating everything in there. It would really suck to come back to a refrigerator full of rotten food.

Ryan thought about what he was getting into in a few days. He would have to disguise himself properly as a mentally ill person. He was confident he could play crazy convincingly, especially if he called on last year's experience. He wasn't worried about that part.

He was planning himself off as some sort of transient, which would help explain the lack of background information on him when he first got there. He'd already decided to stop shaving so he'd have a bit of stubble when his cue to start the show rolled around. He wanted to look as unkempt as possible without getting too gross, of course.

Ryan rubbed his scalp, making his hair messy and sticking up in places. So no more shaving, no more combing. He couldn't bring himself to stop showering, but he figured that wouldn't be necessary anyway. He just had to look the part. He didn't necessarily have to _smell_ like a homeless person.

Ryan took a deep breath and a sip of coffee.

He could do this. He was going to be fine.

**::|+|::**

"Have you talked to him?"

Natalia looked up at Walter. His usually cheerful face was gloomy.

Her eyes were sad. "No. Horatio told Ryan to sever all communications unless it's an emergency. In a way, I guess no news really is good news."

"I know," he said glumly. "And I know we're not supposed to contact him either. I just thought, maybe since you two were so tight..."

Natalia smiled ruefully and shook her head.

"Oh... okay," he said quietly, looking disappointed. He put a small stack of photos on her table. "Tom sent these up. He took a couple of UV photos of Mark Warren."

Natalia frowned and flipped throught the photos. There were couple of images of Mark's shoulders, arms and legs. There were distinct bruising patterns that hadn't been visible before.

"Was he in a fight?" she asked.

"Tom seemed to think he got these bruises from being restrained," Walter answered darkly. "Probably by a couple people."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "He was held down?"

"Most likely by the person who forced that poison down his throat. Or people."

**::|+|::**

**Four days later**

The shadows writhed, tentacles of darkness creeping closer and closer, whispering voices emanating from everywhere.

Ryan backed against a wall, cold sweat pouring down his face. The terror was suffocating.

A cruel voice rose above the rest, coming closer as the darkness closed in.

_i told you... we will always find you..._

"Stay back!" Ryan bellowed.

_we've... missed... you..._

Everything went black and Ryan woke up with a start. He lay in his bed, gasping heavily as sweat poured down his face. He sat up slowly, feeling his heart hammering inside his chest. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked over at the clock by his bedside.

6:34 a.m.

Something tightened in his throat.

_It's time._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh boy, he's all set and ready to go. Hope you are too. ;)


	11. It Begins

**X**

**It Begins**

_Though this be madness, yet there is method._

- William Shakespeare, "Hamlet" -

* * *

The sun had nearly fully broken the horizon when Ryan stepped out his front door reluctantly. He hoped his place didn't get too dusty in his absence. He walked past his car and started down the street, heading toward downtown.

As of this morning, he was no longer Ryan Wolfe. That meant he couldn't take his car where he needed to go. That also meant no cabs. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but he didn't mind the exercise.

There were few people out at this time of the morning. Once in a while a car drove by. People outside their homes, getting their mail in bathrobes and slippers or watering their gardens, didn't even seem to notice the young man slip past like a shadow.

Ryan walked on in plain street clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers and a beat-up old leather jacket that used to belong to his Uncle Ron. At least his clothes could be comfortable. He was going to need it this morning.

He had a _long_ walk ahead of him.

**::|+|::**

Countless faces swirled around him in the seemingly endless ocean of bodies. The midday sun beat down upon them all, waves of invisible heat lazily radiating upward in suffocating swirls and ribbons. The smell of baking asphalt and sweaty people mingled with the freshness of the ocean air and exotic flowers, making the air feel even heavier.

Ryan stood in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling people bump into him over and over again as businessfolk, tourists and beach-goers all went about their daily activities. None seemed to even notice the young man standing still in the middle of the roiling afternoon crowd, gazing blankly around at them as they passed. They didn't seem to notice, or perhaps simply didn't care, the shadows under his hazel eyes or the dark stubble on his face or the tousled, unkempt state of his dark hair.

He stared around at all the people ignoring him as they passed him on the street. A middle-aged man in a navy blue suit was walking toward him, a black cell phone pressed to his ear.

Ryan's eyes widened. _That'll work._

He took a deep breath. _Here we go._

"...Should be home by five o'clock tonight, sweetie," the man said, not noticing the younger man he was quickly approaching. "Janice and Freddie still coming over for dinner?"

An iron-like hand suddenly clamped onto his wrist. The man in the suit stopped dead in his tracks and stared in utter surprise at the person who had grabbed him. The young man looked terrible, as if he hadn't been taking very good care of himself. He gazed at him, a strangely wild look in his eyes.

"Hey, what the hell...," the man in the suit barked, but Ryan cut him off.

"They'll find you with that!" Ryan cried, not letting go of the man's wrist, the one that held the phone against the man's ear. Passersby turned to stare confusedly as they walked past.

"Honey, I have to call you back," the man said quickly into the phone, then pressed the button to hang up. The young man still didn't let go of his wrist. His grip was bruisingly tight.

"The signal is carried through the airwaves!" Ryan shouted in the man's face. "They'll find you, they want to find you!"

The man painfully wrestled his hand from Ryan's grasp. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you, boy?" he snarled. "Get away from me!"

"No, you don't understand!" Ryan cried, moving uncomfortably close to the man, clutching the lapels of the man's suit jacket. "You can't let them find you!"

The man began to feel the creeping onset of fear. Who the hell was this guy?

"Look, man," he said carefully. "You need to let go of me. Right now."

Ryan stared at him with wild eyes for a few moments, something terrifyingly alien flickering in the hazel depths. Then he let go of the man's jacket.

The man in the suit quickly hurried away from him, leaving Ryan looking lost and confused on the sidewalk. He watched Ryan furtively as he hurried away. As soon as he was a seemingly safe distance away from the strange young man, he took out his phone again and dialed three numbers.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yeah, there's some crazy guy accosting people here," he said quickly, glancing in Ryan's direction. He didn't seem to notice the look. "I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Where are you, sir?" she asked.

"Near the corner of Fern and 16th," he told her. "Across the street from Marley's Grill."

"Okay, sir, we'll send someone immediately. In the meantime, I suggest you keep your distance from the man."

He glanced at Ryan again. "Yeah, no problem there," he muttered.

Ryan began ambling through the crowd aimlessly, not really going anywhere in particular. A few people who had witnessed his interaction with the man in the suit watched him closely, all the while making sure to stay well away from him. Something about Ryan was certainly off. People began skirting around him completely as they noticed something was wrong.

Within a few minutes, an unmarked police car appeared at the corner. Frank Tripp and Eric Delko climbed out.

Ryan saw them from his place about fifty feet down the way. He watched them carefully, fighting the urge to grin.

Frank and Eric spotted Ryan, everything about the strange callout suddenly making sense. They began walking slowly toward him, talking quietly to each other.

Ryan watched them come closer, not blinking. He suddenly got a brilliantly devious idea.

Eric made eye contact with Ryan. "Hey," he said. "Can we talk to you for a second?"

Ryan hesitated. Then he took off sprinting.

"God damn it!" Frank growled, hurrying back to the car as Eric raced after Ryan.

"Hey, stop!" Eric bellowed as he fought to catch Ryan. "Miami-Dade Police! STOP!"

Ryan completely ignored him, bolting across grass and sidewalk as he cut through a small park. People screamed and scattered when they saw him pelting toward them with Eric thundering along a couple dozen feet behind him.

Ryan came to a more open expanse of grass. His feet flew across it lightly as if some otherworldly power coursed through them. The distance between him and Eric was quickly expanding, despite the older man's valiant efforts to keep running at breakneck speed.

Frank suddenly appeared on the street in front of him in the car. He stopped squarely in Ryan's path, forcing him to quickly slow his speed.

That one small moment of hesitation was just enough for Eric to close the gap and launch himself on top of Ryan. He tackled him with the force of a linebacker, and the two of them went down in a tangled heap. Ryan immediately began kicking and wriggling, grunting and crying out as he fought to get away from him, but Eric held him down as Frank fumbled to cuff Ryan's hands behind his back.

"Get off me!" Ryan yelled.

"Take it easy, kid," Frank growled. He was finally successful in snapping the metal cuffs in place around Ryan's wrists.

"Leave me alone!" Ryan screamed.

"We can't do that, man," Eric said quietly.

A small crowd of people had gathered around them, many of them snapping pictures or taking video with their camera phones.

"Hey, get out of here, people!" Eric barked at them. "This is none of your business, move along!"

He helped Frank lift the still-struggling Ryan to his feet and begin guiding him into the backseat of the car. Ryan fought the whole way, squirming and flailing, but the combined strength of the other two men was too much for him to overcome. They managed to push him into the back of the car and shut the door.

Ryan began kicking the back of the seat in front of him as hard as he could, roaring incoherently like a trapped wild animal. Frank and Eric got into the car as calmly as they could, ignoring the steadily growing crowd of onlookers.

"I didn't do anything!" Ryan bellowed desperately, still slamming himself against the seat and kicking with all his might.

Eric turned around to face him, a stony expression on his face, but his eyes were sad.

"If you didn't do anything, why'd you run?" he asked quietly.

Frank pulled away from the curb and the watching crowd.

Ryan stared at Eric for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Why'd you run?" Ryan echoed teasingly. "So _serious, _Delko!"

Eric grinned. "Hey, you got to have your fun, I'm just having some of my own."

"_That_ was not fun," Frank grumbled. "Nobody told me we'd have to chase you."

"You looked like you could use some exercise," Ryan said innocently. "Just wanted to help keep you sharp, Tripp."

Frank growled incoherently. Eric and Ryan grinned at each other.

"You know I _let_ you catch me, right?" Ryan said dryly.

"Yeah, right. Nice try, Wolfe."

* * *

**Author's Note: **That should have been quite familiar :P. We're on our way!


	12. Paper Trail

**XI**

**Paper Trail**

_Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose._

- Tom Krause -

* * *

Ryan sat patiently at the interrogation table, Eric and Frank across from him. They put him in the most out of the way room, where nobody would see him. Between his clothes, his disheveled appearance and the fact that he was in handcuffs, not a single person had looked long enough to recognize him when they'd first brought him inside.

Eric and Frank were looking him over, odd looks on their faces.

"You look... scruffy," Frank remarked.

Ryan grinned. "I had to fit the part."

"Nice hair, dude," Eric added.

Ryan passed a hand through his tousled mane. It was sticking up sort of like how he used to wear it a few years ago, making him look a little younger.

"Thought it made me look dangerous," he said simply.

Eric snorted.

The door to the room opened and Horatio walked in. The redhead actually paused for a second when he saw Ryan, taken aback by his drastic change in appearance, but he quickly recovered.

"We should get started on the police report," he said quietly.

The other three men nodded. Ryan shifted into a more comfortable position in the chair. This was the important first step in laying his paper trail.

"You thought of a name for yourself?" Frank asked, taking out a pen.

"Jordan West," Ryan answered.

Eric smirked.

"What?" Ryan demanded defensively.

"You sound like a comic book character or something," Eric chuckled.

"You're just jealous," Ryan retorted.

"Okay, I'm putting you down as an unknown transient," Frank said, scribbling everything into the report. "No known address, no ID, no claims of family or employment."

"Do you have any identifying personal effects on you?" Horatio asked.

"No, I left my wallet, cell and keys at home," Ryan answered.

"How'd you get downtown?" Eric asked.

Ryan shrugged. "Walked."

They all looked impressed and surprised at that, but no one said anything.

Frank finished writing. "All right. So between the minor public disturbance and resisting arrest, there's no legal reason on paper to charge you with anything more than a misdemeanor. If it weren't for the concerns about your mental state, you'd be free to go."

Ryan nodded. "On to step two."

"Frank and I will drive you to the hospital," Horatio said. "Your story has to be infallible in every way."

Frank stood up from the table, handing the papers to Eric. "You mind filing that for me?"

"Sure."

Frank started walking toward the door. "I'll signal you when the coast is clear."

Ryan stood up from the table and walked over to join Horatio near the door. Eric also got up from his seat. He faced Ryan.

There really wasn't much the two men could say to each other. Eric offered his hand. Ryan smirked crookedly and shook it.

"Look after the others for me, all right?" Ryan asked him.

Eric nodded. "Take care of yourself, Wolfe."

"All clear," Frank told them. "Let's roll."

Ryan let go of Eric's hand and was led away by Horatio and Frank.

Eric watched them quickly walk him out of the station before anyone noticed him. His part to play in helping Ryan set up his story was over. His friend was beyond his help now.

Perhaps it was that thought that sent the small twinge of foreboding fluttering through his gut.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A short one, I know. Sorry! More soon, I promise. :D Thanks for reading!


	13. The Final Step

**XII**

**The Final Step**

_Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength._

- August Wilson -

* * *

Ryan sat in the back of Frank's car, Horatio in the seat next to him. The three of them had traveled in silence from the police station to the hospital. Frank pulled up to the side entrance, one where there weren't as many people around.

Horatio turned to Ryan. "Ready?" he asked quietly, his face solemn.

Ryan nodded wordlessly. He turned so his back was to Horatio and reached his hands behind him. Horatio leaned forward to gently fasten handcuffs loosely around his wrists.

Ryan sighed. "Can't wait 'til _that's _over," he mumbled.

"Here we go," Horatio said.

The three of them got out of the car and began walking toward the building, Horatio and Frank on either side of Ryan. They entered through the automatic doors, which brought them into a segment of the emergency department.

Frank and Horatio expertly guided Ryan through the hallway, weaving in and out of patients, doctors, paramedics and visitors, making for the elevators.

They were expected upstairs.

**::|+|::**

"Here you go, honey," Alexx said, handing a young man a wad of gauze. "Put some pressure on it."

The man nodded his thanks and pressed the gauze to the bleeding gash on his arm.

Satisfied he could handle it on his own, Alexx left him to return to the front desk to look for another patient to help out.

A flash of red caught the corner of her eye and she looked up.

Horatio was here. And Frank was with him. They were leading a man in handcuffs through her ward toward the elevators.

She'd have to make sure she said hello before they left, she thought. But then she suddenly did a double-take.

The man in handcuffs... It was Ryan!

Alexx's mouth dropped open as she watched, horrified, and realized she was indeed seeing this correctly. Why was her boy in handcuffs? And why did he look so shabby? Something was seriously wrong here!

Alexx quickly followed them, skirting around gurneys and supply drawers. They were too far ahead of her to shout. They disappeared inside the elevator before she could reach them.

Alexx stood in front of the elevator, watching the floor numbers above it light up one by one. She watched, holding her breath as the light illuminated the number one... then two... then three...

It stopped on four. Alexx's eyes narrowed in confusion.

Why on earth were they bringing Ryan up to the psych ward?

**::|+|::**

"Thank you for agreeing to help with this investigation, Dr. Karishma," Horatio said.

"I should be the one thanking you," she assured him. "I'd do anything to help you find Mark's killer."

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice suddenly demanded from the doorway.

They all turned in surprise to see a livid-looking Alexx standing there. She stormed inside and slammed the door closed behind her.

"Why was Ryan just marched through my ER in handcuffs?" she demanded, glaring around at the four of them.

"Alexx, it's okay," Ryan told her quickly. "It's just a cover."

"For what?" she demanded.

"I'm starting an undercover assignment at Marble Tree today," he explained. "I need a proper medical referral to get in. Jay's helping us out."

Alexx frowned at him. "Marble Tree? The psychiatric hospital?"

He nodded.

Her frown deepened. "Why on earth do you need to go there?"

"We think it has ties to a homicide," Horatio answered.

Alexx looked at Ryan, then at Horatio. "And after what happened last year, you're seriously letting him do this?" she demanded.

Horatio didn't answer.

"I don't believe this!" she cried. She turned back to Ryan. "Ryan, you shouldn't be taking such a big risk like this, you need more time to make sure you're fully recovered..."

"Really, Alexx, I'm all set," Ryan insisted. "I've been given a clean bill of health from Jay as well as the department. I feel good, I want to do this."

"But..." Alexx began, but Jay interrupted her.

"Why don't Ryan and I finish up in here while you go for a walk and explain the plan to her?" she suggested to Horatio.

The redhead nodded. He and Frank left with Alexx, who was still protesting. That left Ryan alone in the room with Jay.

He grinned. "Thanks for that," he said.

She smiled. "No problem. We need to talk about your upcoming performance anyway. Thought I'd give you a few pointers about being crazy."

Ryan nodded, both his attention and curiousity piqued. "Hit me."

"For starters, the doctors who've been doing this for a while have a sixth sense about patients like this," she told him. "It's all in the eyes. Patients who are truly insane have a look about them. So try to make eye contact with any of the staff as little as possible. Either do it too much or not enough."

Ryan nodded in understanding. "No eye contact, check."

"They're going to be giving you medicine a couple times a day. Some of them have some pretty nasty side effects, so try to fake taking them as often as possible just in case."

He nodded again.

"Don't get too extravagant with what you tell the doctors in your therapy sessions and interviews. Keep the lies simple so they're easy to remember, and keep your symptoms vague so they puzzle over a diagnosis for a few weeks. That should buy you plenty of time."

"Thanks. Anything else?" he asked.

Her face grew serious. "Yes, there's one more thing."

She sat down on the bed next to him. "Do you remember what we talked about six months ago? At our last appointment?"

"Vaguely...," he said hesitantly.

"There is no telling if we've seen the end of effects from your BDNF depletion last year," she reminded him. "You could very well be completely healed. Or..."

He sighed. "I know."

"You need to be very careful, Ryan," she told him. "It's risky. If there was a fracture of your subconscious, extreme stress could trigger the episodes again."

He looked at her, his hazel eyes haunted.

"You need to leave this assignment the moment it gets to be too much," she ordered him. "Promise me you'll do that."

Ryan swallowed. "Promise."

**::|+|::**

"That's everything," Jay said. "I just have to fax this paperwork over to Marble Tree and they should be ready to take you today. Our ward actually is full at the moment anyway, which is fortunate. They won't think twice, they always take our spillover patients."

She left to go do that, leaving Ryan with Alexx, Horatio and Frank.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Alexx asked Ryan quietly. "Alone?"

"We'll wait outside," Horatio said, leaving immediately. He had a feeling he knew what she had to say. Frank followed him out the door.

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Ryan, I don't want you to do this," she said.

"Nobody does, Alexx," he replied.

"After what happened last year..."

"I know what happened last year," he said shortly. "I can handle it."

"Can you?" she demanded. "There's still time to back out, you know."

Ryan sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm not turning back now. I can't."

"Yes, you can!" she cried desperately. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Please, Ryan. I'm asking you as a favor. Don't do this. I've heard about this place and I don't like it!"

He drew her close into a hug. She held him tightly, not letting go.

The door opened a crack and Frank's head popped in.

"Time to go," he said solemnly. He closed the door again to give them privacy.

Alexx slowly and reluctantly let go of Ryan, her eyes close to spilling over. He gave her a small smile.

"Everything's gonna be fine," he promised quietly.

She tried to smile bravely, but it didn't work very well. "Be safe, baby."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here we go... ;P

And to all my American brethren, Happy Thanksgiving!


	14. Marble Tree

**XIII**

**Marble Tree**

_Out on your own, cold and alone again_

_Can this be what you really wanted, baby?_

- Evanescence, "Lacrymosa" -

* * *

The car ride was suffocatingly silent from the hospital. It was all Ryan could do to keep taking deep, measured breaths as he watched the city flick past on the other side of the window.

Marble Tree was located on Tower Road in Miami Beach, but not the nice part seen in magazines. It wasn't near the water at all and it was in a beat-up looking part of town that everyone knew to stay away from at night.

Frank stopped the car around the corner from the hospital.

Ryan took a deep breath. _This is it._

Horatio, sitting in the backseat next to him, turned towards Ryan. He picked up a small case from the floor of the car and opened it. Inside was a rather large hypodermic needle. Ryan's eyes widened at the sight of it.

"What's that for?" he asked, his voice strained.

"I want to put a GPS tracker in you," Horatio said, preparing the needle and chip. "Just in case."

Ryan hesitated, but trustingly took off his jacket. Horatio pushed aside Ryan's t-shirt sleeve and aimed the needle right over the back of his shoulder. Ryan flinched when the syringe bit into his skin.

"Done," Horatio said, removing the needle and putting it back in the case.

"You expecting me to go somewhere?" Ryan asked, half-jokingly.

Horatio smirked. "The GPS feed is linked to my phone. If we ever need to find you, we will."

Frank turned around in the driver's seat and reached his hand back toward Ryan.

"Good luck, Wolfe," he said.

Ryan took his hand and shook it. "You mean West," he said wickedly.

"Yeah, whatever," Frank said sourly, putting the car back into gear and inching forward.

Horatio once more fastened the handcuffs around Ryan's wrists.

"Thanks, H," Ryan said quietly. "For everything."

Horatio opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

Frank pulled into the gated parking lot of the hospital. Ryan pressed himself against the window to get a good look at this place.

It was a simple-looking five-floor building of concrete and metal. The outside was plain and dull. Windows dotted walls outside in regular intervals, iron bars crisscossing over the outside of the smudged glass. The whole compound was surrounded by a tall, ancient-looking iron fence that was brown with rust and weathering. The front lawn was small but tidy, bedecked by a few flowery shrubs and small, scrubby palm trees. There was nothing particularly uninviting about the place, simply a bit dull for what one might expect in the middle of southern Florida.

Frank pulled up to the front of the building. A grey granite staircase led up to the double front doors.

Ryan took a breath, like one preparing to submerge underwater. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into Jordan West, his new identity.

Frank got out of the car and opened the door in front of Ryan. He helped him out of the car as Horatio got out on the other side. Ryan let Frank guide him away from the car and up the stairs, shuffling his feet and keeping his eyes down and unfocused.

Horatio led the way inside. A young woman at the front desk looked up when they came in. She smiled sweetly.

"Hi there," she greeted. "Is this the transfer from Dade General?"

"Yes, ma'am," Frank said.

The woman picked up the phone and dialed a number. "He's here, Dr. Fletcher. Shall I send him up?"

She paused as she listened to whoever was on the other end. Then she nodded. "Okay."

She hung up and looked up at them. "You can take him right up," she told them. She pointed down the hallway to her left. "The elevators are right there. You're headed for the fourth floor, Dr. Fletcher will meet you up there."

"Thank you, ma'am," Horatio said, leading Ryan and Frank toward where she had pointed.

The elevator ride was short and silent. Ryan kept up his uninterested act the whole time, but he could feel the tension radiating off the men on either side of him. So far, so good.

The elevator doors opened and a middle-aged male doctor with a perfectly sculpted salt-and-pepper beard and mustache stood there. He smiled kindly at the three men.

"Officers, thank you so much for your assistance," he said cordially. "Those cuffs won't be necessary anymore. This is the young man Jayashi Karishma sent over from Dade General?"

"Yes, Doctor," Horatio said, taking the cuffs off of Ryan, who shoved his hands in his pockets as soon as he was finished. "We picked him up a few hours ago for a public disturbance."

The doctor took a step toward Ryan, cocking his head as if trying to get a better look at his face, but Ryan continued to stare resolutely at the floor.

"What's your name, son?" the doctor asked, not unkindly.

Ryan didn't answer, or even act as if he'd heard him.

"Not a talker?" the doctor asked Frank and Horatio, one eyebrow raised.

"He was talkin' just fine a couple hours ago when he was freakin' out in the middle of downtown Miami," Frank said sourly. "Causin' a ruckus and upsettin' everybody there."

"I see...," Dr. Fletcher remarked thoughtfully. "And he was brought to Dade General for a psych eval?"

"He tested negative for all mind-altering substances," Horatio explained. "He's a transient and only gave us his name. Dr. Karishma thought he might be suffering from manic episodes."

"Well, no worries," the doctor said cheerfully. "We'll get to the bottom of this. His name?"

"Jordan West."

Dr. Fletcher cocked his head again in an attempt to meet Ryan's eyes. "Jordan, my name is Dr. Fletcher," he said in a bracing tone, as if he were speaking to a child. "Do you know where you are?"

Ryan jerked his head to the side, his eyes still plastered to the floor. "Prison," he mumbled confusedly.

Dr. Fletcher grinned. "No, no, you're in a hospital."

"The cops brought me in here," Ryan muttered darkly.

"Yes, they did," Dr. Fletcher said. "They brought you here to get help. We're going to take care of you, okay?"

Ryan jerked his head again, but didn't answer.

Dr. Fletcher smiled at Frank and Horatio. "I think we're all right from here. Thank you, Officers."

Frank and Horatio nodded, then turned slowly to leave the way they came. The elevator doors opened. They stepped inside. Then they disappeared.

"Welcome to Marble Tree, Jordan," Dr. Fletcher said kindly.

An apprehensive chill settled in the pit of Ryan's stomach.

He was truly alone now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The end. LOL nah, I'm just kidding. You may however wish it was the end when things really start to get going here... :D *evil laugh*


	15. Orientation

**XIV**

**Orientation**

_These are the darkest clouds, they have surrounded me_

_Now I found myself alone caught in a cage_

_There's no flower I can find in here_

_Not withering not pale to me_

_Everyone with a friendly face seems to hide some secret inside._

- Within Temptation, "Caged" -

* * *

Ryan sat nonchalantly in the rather uncomfortable chair in front of Dr. Fletcher's desk. He scratched his head, scanning his surroundings with a blank, disinterested look on his face.

Dr. Fletcher watched him from the other side of the desk, one hand over his mouth.

"Do you know why you're here, Jordan?" he asked mildly.

Ryan remembered Jay's advice about eye contact. He swept his eyes to gaze out the window, not even looking at Dr. Fletcher.

He sighed heavily. "They think I'm crazy."

"Do _you _think you're crazy, Jordan?"

Ryan shrugged.

"You know, I read the police report," Dr. Fletcher said, flipping through some papers on his desk. "You accosted a man in the middle of a crowded street on broad daylight? Witnesses said you were yelling something about a signal. Can you tell me about that?"

Ryan sighed again, rubbing his knuckles in his hair, making it even more messy. "I was just trying to help," he said frustratedly. "I don't understand how that's a crime."

"It's not a crime, Jordan," Dr. Fletcher said delicately. "But when you start having thoughts that make you believe you or people around you are in danger, then that becomes a problem."

Ryan didn't say anything, he just kept staring out the window.

"Have you ever been diagnosed with a psychiatric condition?" he asked.

Ryan still didn't answer.

Dr. Fletcher sighed. "Okay. We'll have plenty of time to talk. You're going to be here for a while, but you're gonna be okay. We're here to help you. You understand?"

Ryan nodded slightly, barely moving his head.

Dr. Fletcher gave him a kind smile. "Good man. We won't do anything today. We'll start treatment tomorrow. Dinner's in a half-hour, I'll have someone show you to your room and then escort you to the cafeteria. Sound good?"

At the mention of food, Ryan's stomach let out a loud rumble. He suddenly realized he hadn't eaten anything since the night before. He'd been so full of adrenaline to get this assignment started, he hadn't even realized his stomach was empty.

Dr. Fletcher looked at him concernedly at the noise. "The police said you were a transient," he remarked quietly. "When was the last time you had something to eat? You look a little scrawny for a man your age..."

Ryan shrugged, the lie easy. He wanted to defend himself and say he wasn't scrawny, he was just trim from all the exercise he'd been doing in the last couple of years, but he held it back.

The friendly smile returned to Dr. Fletcher's lips. "Not to worry. You'll have three square meals a day here and a warm place to sleep. It's actually sort of fortunate you were picked up. Winter's coming and it's not a good time to be out on the streets at night, even in Miami."

"I do just fine," Ryan grumbled irritatedly.

Dr. Fletcher's eyes were sad. "I'm sure you do, Jordan. But you've got us now. You're not alone anymore."

**::|+|::**

"Can you take your jacket off for me, please, and empty your pockets?"

Ryan obeyed the young orderly, who had come to Dr. Fletcher's office to show Ryan to his new home. But first they had to search him for contraband.

The orderly rifled through his jacket pockets, but there was nothing in any of them. Ryan had been careful about that before he'd left home. There was nothing to be found in the outturned pockets of his jeans, either.

"Take the laces out of your shoes, please," Dr. Fletcher said.

"Why?" Ryan demanded sourly.

"We can't have you hurting yourself or anybody else with them," he explained cordially.

Ryan hesitated, then huffily bent down to pull the strings out of his sneakers. Dr. Fletcher smiled when he handed them over.

"You're all set, Jordan," he said. "Matthew here will take you to your room and then to dinner. I'll see you tomorrow."

The orderly put a hand on Ryan's arm, gently leading him toward the door. Ryan followed timidly, glancing back at Dr. Fletcher a couple of times before they disappeared around the corner.

He walked a few steps behind Matthew, a young black man who looked to be about Ryan's age. His head was shaved, his black hair not even long enough to be called bristle. He was a few inches taller than Ryan, built along the same lines as Delko. He had a friendly face, but there was also a hardened air about him, probably from working in a place like this.

He turned his head to look at Ryan as they walked. "So where you from, Jordan?"

Ryan didn't answer, he just kept following him, his hands shoved resolutely in his jacket pockets.

Matthew grinned. "Ah, you're one of those silent, brooding types," he joked. "The ladies are gonna _love _you. They're usually stuck with either violent paranoid schizophrenics or guys that drool 24/7."

A hint of annoyance twinged in the back of Ryan's mind. Sure, this guy was just trying to be nice, but he could do with a little more respect for the people in this place. They didn't choose to be like this, after all. It wasn't their fault.

"Meals are at the same time every day in the cafeteria," Matthew said. "Breakfast is at 7:30, lunch is at noon and dinner is at six. Dr. Fletcher will sit down with you tomorrow morning to work out a personal daily schedule. You'll be meeting with him at least once a day. You'll have group therapy every day after lunch. The rest of the time is yours to do with as you will."

They came to a wide open room bedecked with about a dozen tables and three times as many chairs. The room was lined with barred windows, and there was a TV and a VCR in the corner. It was surprisingly vacant.

"This is the rec room," Matthew said, stopping so Ryan could get a look. "Most patients spend the larger part of their free time in here. Everyone from this floor is at group therapy right now, though. The top three floors of the building are patient rooms and group therapy rooms. Each floor has its own rec room and art room. We all share a cafeteria on the second floor. That's also the floor with most of the doctors' offices. First floor is just the reception area and security desk. With me so far?"

He walked over to the windows, gesturing for Ryan to join him. Ryan sauntered over reluctantly. Matthew pointed outside. Ryan looked down and saw a small, rectangular field enclosed on all four sides of the complex. There were a handful of benches and a basketball court.

"You can also take your free time out in the courtyard when the weather's nice," Matthew said. "This way."

He followed the wall to the right, where Ryan could see there was another hallway branching out.

"This is the way to the men's hall. The women's rooms are on the other side of the building," Matthew said as he led Ryan down the new hallway. "You're not allowed over there by yourself, got it? And we don't allow fraternization between the men and the women, so you're not ever to go into each other's rooms unless the door stays open and one of us employees is there."

They stopped in front of a door. Matthew took out a ring of keys and unlocked it, opening it to reveal a small bedroom. He walked inside and Ryan followed.

The room was small and plain, but clean. The bed was plain, neatly made with dull white sheets and a light-brown blanket. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a beat-up dresser. Another door within the room stood slightly ajar. Ryan could just barely see a sink on the other side.

"You have your own bathroom, don't abuse the privilege," Matthew told him. "Dinner's in about ten minutes. I'll let you get settled in 'til then, and then I'll take you to the cafeteria. Okay?"

Ryan stared at the floor and nodded.

Matthew smiled. "Welcome home, Jordan."

Ryan shuffled forward and sat down on the bed heavily. He sighed. "Can I wear my own clothes?" he asked softly.

"It's actually encouraged," Matthew said. "There's a place for you to do your laundry near the kitchen. Do you have any other clothes?"

Ryan shook his head.

"I'll see what I can dig up for you," Matthew said kindly. He reached a hand out to Ryan. "Call me Matt."

Ryan hesitated, then shook the offered hand. He dropped it quickly.

Matt smiled. "You're gonna be all right, Jordan."

**::|+|::**

Despite the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat all day, Ryan found he didn't have much of an appetite at dinner. The food wasn't exactly the issue, although he was pretty sure he'd seen cardboard that looked more edible than the spaghetti on his tray. Mostly he was just looking forward to when he would finally be allowed to go back to his room and be alone. He hadn't been completely alone since he'd left his house that morning. He was starting to miss the quiet.

Ryan sat alone in the small cafeteria. Patients sat in clusters at the tables, being watched over by doctors, nurses and orderlies. Most actually seemed fairly normal, to Ryan's relief. He guessed he was sort of expecting something... else. Like what he'd seen in the movies.

A few people seemed a bit odd, which only served to remind him of where he was. One man was sitting in the corner near the windows, mumbling to himself as he arranged the noodles on his tray in some pattern that only made sense to him. Another woman was being coaxed to eat by a nurse, but she seemed quite sure that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it all.

Ryan carefully scoped out everyone in the cafeteria, both the patients and the employees, although he was careful to be inconspicuous about it. His persona of Jordan West was disinterested and antisocial, not the kind of person to be staring calculatingly at people when he should be focusing on his food.

_Well, here I am, _he thought. _Now the fun part begins._

**::|+|::**

A nurse accompanied Ryan and Matthew back to his room this time. Ryan had no idea why until she handed him two small paper cups, one empty and the other containing a single white pill.

"You can get water from your sink if you'd like," she told him.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, his heart starting to thud in his chest. Jay had warned him about this...

"Just something to help you sleep," she said cheerfully. "You've had a long day, Jordan. It's important to get your rest."

Ryan stared down at the little pill. It looked so harmless...

Without delay, Ryan popped the pill in his mouth without water. He quickly maneuvered it in his mouth until it was safely tucked under his tongue. He swallowed dryly, making a face to add to his performance.

"Good night, Jordan," Matt said, following the nurse out of the room and closing the door behind him.

The silence that blanketed his room was as welcome as an old friend. Ryan sighed and spat the pill out into his hand. He walked back to the bathroom, which only had a toilet and a sink in it, no mirror, and dropped the white capsule into the toilet and pushed the lever to flush. He heavily trudged back to his bed and sat down on it.

Matt had told him there would be some pajamas in the dresser, but Ryan didn't feel much like changing into them. Something about wearing hospital-issued garb didn't quite sit with him. So instead he kicked off his lace-less sneakers and socks, then pulled off his jacket and jeans until he was only in his t-shirt and boxers.

Ryan got up and walked to the door, where the light switch was on the wall. He flicked it off, then walked back to his bed and pushed aside the covers. The sheets were in desperate need of some fabric softener, but they actually weren't terribly unpleasant.

Ryan lay in his bed, staring up at the streak of moonlight that glowed on his ceiling. He could see the shadowy pattern of the metal bars illuminated in the milky patch.

The full weight of his situation suddenly crashed into him.

Ryan had to take a deep breath to steady his quaking nerves. This assignment hadn't really felt real until just that moment. He was really here. There was no leaving. He was going to have to see this through until the very end, whatever that may be. His team couldn't reach him in here. His family and friends couldn't find him here.

He was alone.

As he lay there, knowing rest was going to be hard to come by that night, Ryan suddenly wished he hadn't thrown away that sleeping pill.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Let the games begin! :D


	16. Josseline

**XV**

**Josseline**

_Began an end today_

_Gave and got given_

_You made a friend today_

_Kindred soul cracked spirit_

_It has to end to begin_

_Living in your head_

_Without anything to numb you._

- Sia, "Numb" -

* * *

Ryan poked his food half-heartedly with his plastic spork. He'd been partially amused when he'd been handed the utensil, seeing as he hadn't used one of those things probably since elementary school. But it was quickly starting to lose its humor appeal.

A nurse had come to check on him three times in the middle of the night. It had been incredibly annoying, not to mention unnerving, to have someone coming into his room without any notice while he was sleeping. She had explained that it was simply a precaution, and it would happen less often once he'd been there a little longer. Between that and his anxiety, he hadn't gotten much rest.

The whole floor had been roused at 7:30 a.m. on the dot for breakfast. Ryan had been shepherded out of his room into the hallway, where he joined the bleary-eyed herd of a dozen or so other men who lived on his hall. They'd all looked at him suspiciously and curiously, all of them wondering who this new guy was, but no one had spoken to him directly. They'd all shuffled downstairs, led by a handful of orderlies and a couple of nurses, and filed into the cafeteria.

After he'd collected his rations of powdered scrambled eggs, orange juice and some sort of brown substance he assumed was meant to be bacon, Ryan had found a seat in the corner, away from the rest of the patients. He much preferred it that way. It was more conducive to his observation of the population of this place, and it had the bonus benefit of him not having to talk to anybody.

Or so he thought.

"False face must hide what the false heart doth know!" a woman's voice suddenly cried in his ear.

Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin. A woman looking to be about fifty or so years old slid into the seat across from him. She had long, stringy greying blonde hair that looked like it could do with a washing or two. Her face was wrinkled, her eyes a glittery blue that popped almost uncomfortably.

"Sorry?" he said, utterly bewildered.

She leaned across the table, eyeing him sharply with pursed lips. "If you prick us do we not bleed?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cackle-like. "If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?"

Ryan stared at her blankly.

"It's Shakespeare," came another voice, this one much softer and sweeter than this woman's harsh tone.

Another woman, this one looking to be in her early twenties, sat down next to the other lady. She was slender and young, her skin the color of milk chocolate. Her wiry hair was tightly woven into microbraids that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were light brown speckled with grey-green flecks. She was actually quite pretty. She wore a silver chain around her neck that had a little decorative box about the size of a large coin dangling from the end of it

She smiled at Ryan. "Mrs. Naughton here likes Shakespeare," she said. She spoke with a light hint of a Southern accent. "She only ever talks in it."

Ryan glanced back and forth between the two women. Mrs. Naughton didn't say anything else, only glared at him unblinkingly. The younger woman smiled more widely, white teeth flashing brightly.

"I'm Josseline," she said. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Ryan hesitated, then nodded.

"What's your name? You do have a name, don't you?"

"Jordan," he answered quietly.

"Nice to meet you, Jordan," she said cheerfully. "What floor they put you on?"

"Fourth," he grunted.

"Me too!" she cried happily. "We're neighbors!"

Ryan didn't say anything in reply.

"So, do you like being called Jordan or do you have a nickname?" she asked cheerfully, completely unperturbed by his obvious lack of conversationalism.

"Just Jordan."

"Oh, okay. I only ask 'cause I don't like being called Josseline," she told him.

"What should I call you then?" he asked.

She grinned mischievously. "Surprise me."

Ryan suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. He looked past Josseline's shoulder.

Two tables away, a middle-aged man was staring at Ryan with narrowed eyes. He looked to be a dangerous sort of person, a wild look gleaming in his eyes. His curly black hair was cut short and his skin was ghostly pale. He was also sitting alone, but Ryan suspected unlike him, it wasn't by choice. He didn't strike Ryan as the kind of person who people went out of their way to be near.

Josseline turned in her seat to see what Ryan was looking at. She saw the man and turned back around to face Ryan.

"That's Ray," she muttered darkly. "He's on our floor too, unfortunately. I don't like him, he's creepy."

"Mrs. Naughton, you need to come finish your breakfast," a nurse said coaxingly, coming up to the older woman and putting a hand on her shoulder. Mrs. Naughton got up obediently and allowed the nurse to lead her away, muttering Old English verses under her breath. Ryan and Josseline silently watched them go.

"You don't have to pretend, you know," Josseline suddenly said quietly.

Ryan looked up at her sharply, directly meeting her eyes. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he fumbled for something to say in reply. The bizarre remark had completely thrown him for a loop. She couldn't _p__ossibly_ know about him...

"No need to pretend to be normal," she continued in a low voice. "They'll always find something wrong with you anyway."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Aw, he made a friend. Don't worry, no romance there. She's a little young for him anyway. And she's not a Mary-Sue either. You'll find out more about her later, since she'll be popping up more than once in the future. Suffice it to say Ryan's gonna need a friend in the coming weeks... ;)

Hope you like so far!


	17. Espionage

**XVI**

**Espionage**

_Where'd you go? I miss you so_

_Seems like it's been forever that you've been gone_

_Please come back home._

- Fort Minor, "Where'd You Go" -

* * *

Natalia sighed heavily, her head resting on one hand as she waited for the DNA samples to be done processing. The lab seemed so gloomy these days.

So... _boring_.

Natalia caught Walter's eye as he passed her lab. He had the unhappy expression on his face that had become the usual ever since Ryan left them almost week ago. They'd heard from Eric and Horatio that the final stages of Ryan's preparations had gone smoothly and he'd gotten into Marble Tree without a problem.

But now all they could do was wait. She _hated_ that!

The lab seemed so different without him around. A few people had asked her what happened to him in the first few days he was gone, and she had fed them the agreed-upon story. People had stopped asking after a few days.

She knew the rest of the team missed Ryan as much as she did. Walter was the most noticeable. But Natalia had also noticed a perpetual air of worry around Calleigh and Eric as well. And Horatio was even more solemn and brooding than usual, which she hadn't even thought was possible.

Until Ryan got them some new information from the inside, there was nothing else to go on in the Mark Warren case. Natalia _still _hadn't been able to get Dr. Schaeffer on the phone, though she was starting to suspect that wasn't a coincidence, as if she was pointedly avoiding her. Natalia was starting to think she'd have to drive up to Georgia herself and physically drag this woman in for questioning.

Natalia sighed again, shifting in her seat to alleviate the dull ache on her back.

_Come home soon, Ryan, _she thought wistfully.

**::|+|::**

Ryan sat up in bed. The night-nurse had just come by to check on him, meaning he had about two hours until she came back.

He'd been observing all that he could both day and night in the past four days at Marble Tree. The night-nurse came to do checks every two hours, fairly regularly. There was also a nighttime security guard who did rounds twice every night. If Ryan's guess was correct, right about now the nurse was doing her rounds, but the guard was down on the first floor at the security desk.

Each floor had its own nurses' station where they kept files and medication locked away out of reach of the patients, but the biggest one that served as the night-nurse's headquarters was on the fourth floor, his floor. He had a suspicion that that was where they kept the master files and the larger bottles of medication, from which nurses from other floors took the needed amounts for their own patients on the third and fifth floors. That's where he was headed tonight.

Ryan got out of bed silently and pulled on his jeans and socks. He left off his shoes, though. He needed to be as quiet as possible.

He opened the door to his room and stepped out into the deserted hallway, not a sound to be heard. He padded silently in his socked feet down the hallway toward the rec room. The nurses' station was empty, the night-nurse probably somewhere heading down to the third floor by now. He had time, but he couldn't dawdle either.

Ryan knelt down in front of the locked door and produced a paper clip he'd luckily found on the floor earlier. He was doubly lucky that Marble Tree looked like it hadn't updated its doors since the 1970s, and the lock was simply a keyhole in one of those old, round brass knobs.

Ryan bent the paperclip, then stuck it in his mouth and bit down to bend it even more. Then he wriggled the bent end into the keyhole and twisted. The door slid open with a few seconds worth of jostling it. Ryan grinned wolfishly and slipped into the vacant nurses' station.

It mostly looked like a regular medical office. Two large sliding glass windows that looked out onto the rec room were positioned above the desk. The nurses handed the patients their medication through the windows sometimes so no one could get at the pill bottles or cause a ruckus. The windows also allowed the employees within to see pretty much the entire rec room.

He assumed they thought everything was safe as long as the outside door was locked, so they left everything inside unlocked. Ryan opened the cabinet to his left. It was full of prescription bottles and another shelf had a stack of trays and large packages of paper dispensing cups. He scanned the impressively vast array of medications: antidepressants, mood stabilizers, sleep aids, tranquilizers, laxatives, antipsychotics, the works. He closed it again.

Ryan moved on to the cabinet next to it. It had a couple of stacks of folded clothes for the patients to wear, as well as a stack of scrubs for the employees in case things got messy. Ryan had seen his orderly friend Matthew wearing them two days ago after a patient threw his milk-sodden cereal at him. There was also a small pile of what looked like blankets. He put his hand on them. They were beat up and old, the thick grey fabric knobbly and a little coarse, but they were thick and would be far warmer than the blankets they all had on their beds. He supposed they only gave these out when patients were still too cold.

Ryan closed that cabinet too and turned his attention to the filing cabinets. There were quite a few, both under the desk and standing along the wall. Ryan sighed. He was in for a_lot_ of reading.

He decided to start with the smaller drawer near the door, the one closest to the floor. He slid it open and winced. All of the files in this one were labeled in financial jargon, probably denoting payroll information and tax history. Basically he had picked the most boring drawer in the place.

Ryan gritted his teeth in annoyance and tugged the first folder out of the drawer. He slid it closed and sat on the floor, his back against the drawers. He let the folder fall open and he began to read.

He sort of spaced out as he sat there on the floor reading the financial background of Marble Tree. Once in a while he found something interesting, but most of it was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

A door suddenly closed on the opposite side of the rec room. Ryan jumped, his heart pounding. He heard footsteps crossing the room, coming towards him.

Ryan's mind raced. He didn't have time to put the file back. He hurriedly crawled under the desk, clutching the folder to his chest as he barely dared to breathe. He cursed himself silently. He thought he'd have at least another ten minutes before he even had to _think _about getting back to his room. Why was the night-nurse back so soon?

The door into the nurses' station rattled as she unlocked it and opened it. Ryan was fervently grateful he'd thought to lock it behind him rather than wait for when he left.

The footsteps approached where he was curled up under the desk, pressing himself into the wall as hard as he could. He practically held his breath, hoping his heartbeat was nowhere near as audible to her as it was to him.

He saw her white tennis shoes appear in front of the desk. She stopped, rummaging for something on the desk. He heard papers rustle, then he heard the clink of pens and pencils knocking into each other. Then she turned and left the way she came, closing and locking the door behind her.

Ryan waited until her footsteps had faded away across the room and into the stairwell before he let his breath out slowly. He couldn't help but grin.

He dragged himself out from under the desk and put the file back in the drawer, closing it with a click. He stood up and followed the nurse out of the station, careful to lock the door behind him. He set off across the rec room and down his hallway.

That was quite enough espionage for one night.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ryan's a spy! Sexy, no? :P I actually did find out that it IS possible to pick a lock with a paperclip haha. Don't any of you go do something illegal with that information now! ;)

A couple people mentioned in their reviews they would like to see some more scenes with the team. Wish granted! :P I did neglect them the past couple of chapters 'cause I was busy settling Ryan in at Marble Tree. But if I stick to my current plot-map, there should be at least a brief team scene in almost every chapter. Not every single one, but I don't think I'll ever go more than two chapters without at least checking in with them. Thanks so much for all the feedback you've been leaving me. I love it, you're the best!


	18. This Kind of Trust

**XVII**

**This Kind Of Trust**

_Justice... limps along, but it gets there all the same._

- Gabriel Garcia Marquez -

* * *

Ryan fell into a routine at Marble Tree, mostly because that's how everything was run there. It was actually kind of nice to be in a situation where all he had to do was play along, ride through the daily schedule like a good boy with his head down and keep looking for evidence whenever he got a free moment.

As Jay had warned, they handed out medication to every patient every day. Ryan had become a pro at pretending to swallow whatever they gave him, hiding it all under his tongue or in his cheek and then waiting until he wasn't being watched to spit it out. None of the employees were ever the wiser, mostly since they had about twenty other patients to get around to on the fourth floor alone. He didn't like putting the slimy pills in his pocket, but it was the only way to keep them hidden until he got to the bathroom to flush them.

Ryan was actually sort of enjoying the daily meetings he was having with Dr. Fletcher. He kept the lies simple and easy to remember, of course, but he still got a kick out of making up a life story for his own character of Jordan West. They mostly talked about how he was feeling, how he was settling in at Marble Tree, his thoughts and emotions. Some of it was boring, but it was fascinating to Ryan to hear what Dr. Fletcher could interpret from these simple questions.

As far as Ryan could tell from Dr. Fletcher's insights, Jordan West was an absolute trainwreck. He had no home, no family, no friends. He was very reluctant to share any information about his past. From the way he spoke and how he seemed to perfectly understand all the medical information Dr. Fletcher was giving him, the doctor had surmised that he had a college education.

Sometimes Ryan thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to act a little more unstable, but he had to be very careful. He was walking a very fine line between acting too crazy and acting too normal. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, but doing either could do that. And he also had to remember that they thought he was taking his medication, meaning he needed to act as though he was responding to it.

He continued with his nighttime outings to the nurses' station, and luckily he hadn't had a repeat of the slight hitch on his first night yet. He steadily made his way through the files, most of it dull and tedious. He had yet to find anything that could possibly point to any sort of malfeasance by any of Marble Tree's employees, but he had known from the start that this assignment could very well take weeks. He was prepared to keep at it for as long as it took.

None of the employees had struck him as anything other than perfectly friendly, either. Dr. Fletcher and Matthew were the two that Ryan interacted with the most, but everyone else seemed kind and professional as well. One of the nurses had even slipped him an extra cookie at snacktime as a sort of welcome present. He had a hard time believing any of these people would ever do anything to harm him or the other patients. The same staff worked all three wards, too, so it wasn't even as if he was only meeting a few people who worked there.

The only person who ever seemed to set off alarm bells in his head was Ray, the creepy-looking man Josseline had told him about. Whenever Ryan looked at him, Ray always seemed to have a scowl on his face. He was usually alone, the other patients keeping their distance from him. Once in a while Ryan caught Ray glaring at him from across the room, as if sizing him up and not liking what he found. It was a little disconcerting, but Ryan had yet to interact with him in any other way.

Mrs. Naughton had seemed to take quite a liking to Ryan, oftentimes plopping herself down across the table from him without either being invited or asking permission. The staff had found it amusing, since Mrs. Naughton never really seemed to like anybody before. They teased Ryan about it, joking about his apparent allure with older women. Ryan never said anything in return, but he actually didn't mind Mrs. Naughton's company. She only ever spoke in Shakespearean verse and never seemed to mind Ryan not saying anything back. She seemed content to simply mutter on.

Josseline also began to become a frequent companion of Ryan's, and unlike Mrs. Naughton, often engaged him in conversation. He didn't really mind that either; it was nice to have someone to talk to whom he wasn't afraid of slipping information about his true self to. Ryan and Joey, which he had begun to call her as per her request of thinking up a nickname for her, often took to getting styrofoam cups of warm decaffeinated tea and drinking it out in the courtyard together. The weather was getting cooler, and it was quite nice.

"I'm originally from New Orleans," she told him, the pair of them sitting on their usual bench in the courtyard. Mrs. Naughton was nearby, bending down to pluck blades of grass and reciting various soliloquies to them. "Lived there with my mama and my grandpa 'til I was seventeen. Then... Katrina came."

Ryan nodded in understanding. The hurricane that had torn through the city six or so years ago had made national headlines. Everyone knew of the destruction and nightmarish turmoil that had ensued when countless people were killed, left homeless or stranded for days without food, clean water or power.

Josseline looked down at the cup in her hands. She sighed heavily, the memory still difficult to bear. "I wasn't home. I was across town visiting a friend when the levees broke. My home... it was gone. They never found them... my mom and grandpa."

Ryan put a sympathetic hand on her arm. She smiled at him bravely. "I kind of lost myself for a long time," she continued. "Somehow I ended up in Florida. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. When the cops picked me up and I was brought here, they said I was suffering from post-traumatic stress and a nervous breakdown. I've gotten better, though. They've been really great to me here. They say I can go whenever I want, but... I just don't know how long I'd last out there."

She sighed again, then smiled at Ryan. "I hear you were brought in by the cops, too," she said. "Most people here either check themselves in or are brought by family. How long have you been out there on your own?"

Ryan looked at her, his eyes sad. He hated to lie to her, so he said nothing at all.

She patted his hand understandingly. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. We're still new friends, after all. That kind of trust takes a while to earn, doesn't it?"

**::|+|::**

"Dr. Schaeffer, this is Natalia Boa Vista again from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab," Natalia said exasperatedly into the phone. If she had to say those words one more time, she was going to strangle someone. "As my previous messages have said, it is imperative that you call me back when you get this. We need to ask you questions about Marble Tree Psychiatric Hospital. Please call me back. Thanks."

Natalia hung up the phone, buried her head in her arms and groaned loudly.

"Rough day?" Calleigh asked impishly from the doorway.

Natalia glared up at her. "This doctor _still _hasn't gotten back to me. It's been more than a week! She's totally ducking all my calls!"

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. "Maybe that means she has something to hide."

"Which is why I'm more desperate than ever to get her on the phone!" Natalia cried. "I swear, if I have to listen to her voicemail message one more time, I'm going to Atlanta and I'm going to physically drag her outside by her hair!"

Calleigh chuckled. "Well, as much as I'd like to see that, you may run into some legal snags with that approach."

Natalia sighed and hid her face in her hands tiredly.

"There is one thing that might cheer you up," Calleigh said mischeviously.

Natalia's head shot up. "I'm getting a raise? My locker is now made of chocolate? Ryan's coming back tomorrow and he's bringing me a brand-new red Cadillac?"

Calleigh grinned. "Close with that last one. Tomorrow's Ryan's first check-in. Dr. Karishma will be by the lab around 3 tomorrow to bring us his information."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry if this is moving slowly for anyone. There's a lot of information you guys need :P. But things should start to accelerate relatively soon. Thanks for sticking with me!


	19. First Contact

**XVIII**

**First Contact**

_Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow."_

- Mary Anne Radmacher -

* * *

Ryan had to tamp down heavily on himself to contain his happiness at seeing a familiar friendly face. He had been sitting in the rec room playing game after game of solitaire, Mrs. Naughton sitting across from him mumbling quietly, when he saw Jay step out of the elevator with Dr. Fletcher. He spotted Ryan and escorted Jay to where he was sitting.

Ryan ignored them at first, staying utterly focused on the cards in front of him.

"Jordan?" Jay asked in a kind voice. "Do you remember me?"

He looked up at her sidelong, but didn't say anything.

"This is Dr. Karishma, Jordan," Dr. Fletcher said. "She saw you at the hospital last week, she sent you to us."

Ryan hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly.

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to talk to you for a bit, see how you are," she said.

"There's a free table near the window, if you'd like some privacy," Dr. Fletcher said. He put a hand on Mrs. Naughton's shoulder. "I'll look after Clarice, here, until you're through."

Ryan stood up from the table and followed Jay to the empty one Dr. Fletcher had pointed out. She slid gracefully into the seat across from him. She smiled at him, obviously happy to see him again.

"So, how are you doing... _Jordan_?" she asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.

He cocked his head and looked at her. A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth and he winked ever so slightly.

Jay stifled a chuckle and took a pad of paper and a pen out of her bag. She slid them across the table.

"I remember you mentioned you like to draw," she said loudly, in case anyone was listening.

Ryan took the pen and notepad and began to write without a word. Sometimes he doodled random symbols or pitcures, but he also began to jot down notes in tiny, cramped handwriting.

"Do you like it here?" Jay asked.

"It's all right," Ryan mumbled.

"Are you getting along with everybody?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are you sleeping okay? Eating okay?"

"Yes."

Jay grinned. "Are you this talkative with everyone?"

That crooked grin flashed briefly, so quickly she wasn't even sure it really happened. He didn't say anything in return, he simply kept idly sketching and writing on the pad of paper.

Jay risked a glance around the room. "That's good," she said quietly when she was satisfied they would not be overheard. "You seem to have built up a good front for a personality disorder. Nice and vague, but a believable condition. Nice going."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," he muttered under his breath. He finished off the notes he wanted to give her, then put the pen down.

"Well, I just wanted to check in on you," she told him, a little louder. She went to gather up the pen and notepad. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

He shook his head. She put it all back in her purse. "I'll be back next week. Hopefully a bed opens up in my ward soon and then I'll have you transferred back to Dade General if you'd like."

Ryan nodded slightly, looking up at her dully.

She smiled as she got up to leave. "Good to see you again, Jordan. I look forward to our next meeting."

He looked up at her, making sure no one was watching before he gave her a mischevious look. "Me too."

**::|+|::**

Jay looked around at the five CSIs grouped in front of her. She hadn't expected _all _of them to come to this meeting, but after witnessing firsthand their relationship with Ryan, she couldn't really say she was surprised.

"Here's everything he gave me," she said, handing the notepad to Horatio. He took it and began flipping through it. "It's not much, but he did mention a name in it."

Horatio frowned. "Ray Olsen," he read. "Run background. Do you know who this is?"

Jay shook her head. "We couldn't talk much, he just wrote everything down."

"And how is our little .007?" Eric asked dryly.

Jay smirked. "He seems to be having fun."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh yes, Ryan's having fun and everything's going well so far... :P So far.

Thanks for giving me somewhere to go to just write and have fun. This week has barely begun and it's already shaping up to be a pretty crappy one. I'm sick, I have trouble sleeping because I have a nasty hacking cough that wakes me up hourly, everyone seems to be after me for something or another, there was no new Miami episode on this week, I hate school and I now owe 175 dollars that I don't have to bullies who don't deserve my money but can actually stop me from graduating if I don't pay. Sigh. Anyway, sorry for the rant, I just wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my bruised little heart for being so welcoming and awesome and friendly. You're the best! Stay healthy, stay awesome. Happy December! May it kick the pants off of November! :D


	20. Ghosts

**XIX**

**Ghosts**

_Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear._

- Ambrose Redmoon -

* * *

Calleigh walked into the computer lab and bit back a chuckle. "How many CSIs does it take to run one profile?" she asked jokingly.

The rest of the team looked at her from their various positions around the room. Walter smirked. "Are we that conspicuous?"

All five of them were crammed into the one lab and none of them seemed to care about how odd that looked. But not one of them could bear to not be in the room when Ryan's first lead was followed.

Horatio typed in the name from Ryan's notes. There were a few seconds of whirring as the computer scanned through all the available databases, and then a mugshot popped up on the screen.

The man in the photo was pale with dark features, his eyes as wild as his hair. He looked to be somewhere in his thirties.

"Ray Olsen has a record," Eric remarked, reading the small print on the right side of the screen. "He was picked up for an aggravated assault seven years ago. He was deemed to have been mentally unstable and remanded to Marble Tree."

"So he's a patient," Walter said thoughtfully.

"Seven years?" Natalia echoed quietly.

They all looked at her. "Does that mean something to you?" Eric asked.

Natalia frowned but shook her head. "No... never mind. Is Ryan safe with this guy around?"

"The records don't indicate he's had any subsequent episodes," Eric read.

"But he's still at Marble Tree after seven years?" Calleigh asked.

"Well, patients at these places aren't kicked out," Natalia said. "Even if he served out his sentenced time, if he wanted to stay he would have been allowed to."

"What I want to know is why Wolfe wanted us to check this guy out," Eric said thoughtfully, his face darkening. "Obviously something about this guy set off alarm bells."

"Seven years!" Natalia suddenly cried. "The first case of patient abuse at Marble Tree was reported seven years ago. Coincidence?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Walter said.

"Either way, Ryan was right to think this guy was dangerous," Calleigh commented. "Can we get our findings to him somehow? Warn him, maybe?"

"We won't be able to contact him until Dr. Karishma goes to see him again next week," Horatio said quietly.

"Wolfe'll be all right," Eric said confidently. "If he knew enough to have us look into this guy, he'll know enough to stay clear of him."

**::|+|::**

"You sleeping okay?" Joey asked. She and Ryan were sitting on their usual bench outside, drinking cups of warm tea.

"Yeah, why?" he replied.

She shrugged. "Just wondering..."

He wasn't fooled in the least. "Why, Joey?" he pressed.

She shifted uncomfortably. "I just... wondered... if you'd seen it yet."

"Seen what?"

"The ghost."

He stared at her blankly.

"There's a bad spirit in this place," she said simply, immersing her attention in her tea. "Like the old voodoo spirits back home in New Orleans."

He looked at her doubtfully. She saw the expression and rolled her eyes.

"I take it you're a non-believer," she said drily. "My family was always very superstitious, believed in ghosts, spirits, mojo and voodoo. This ghost here is like those soul-snatchers my mama used to tell me stories about."

Ryan didn't say anything, but he felt a tiny twinge in the pit of his gut.

"No one ever talks about it," she continued. "But all the patients know about it. It comes around at night when all the doctors are gone. Sometimes it hurts people."

Ryan frowned. This was sounding like something more than just an urban myth or some mentally unstable person's hallucination.

"It hasn't come around in a while," she finished matter-of-factly. She fiddled with her necklace. "I wear my prayer box to keep it away."

She leaned toward him, holding out her necklace for him to look closer. The sterling silver box was adorned with tiny black whorls. She tapped the little clasp with her fingernail. "This opens up and you can put a little piece of paper inside with a prayer in it, or some other little keepsake."

Ryan shook himself; sometimes it was easy to forget how scattered Joey could be sometimes. "Wait, go back to the ghost," he told her. "What made you mention it?"

"Oh," she said, shrugging. "I was just wondering if you've ever seen it on your hunts."

He stared at her. "My what?"

"Your hunts. When you go out at night and sneak around. Like a wolf hunting."

A chill flashed over him.

"I can't sleep sometimes and I saw you once," she said simply. She saw the nervous look on his face and smiled. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ghosts, huh? Sounds interesting... :P

So I now realize that the story is going to start getting exceptionally darker as we approach the holidays... haha Thought that was kind of funny in a twisted, ironic way.


	21. Confrontation

**XX**

**Confrontation**

_There was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept._

- Jack London -

* * *

Ryan ambled casually toward the rec room. He'd just finished up his daily appointment with Dr. Fletcher and was looking forward to a couple of hours of free time before dinner. He was a few days shy of completing his second week at Marble Tree, and he could tell the staff was starting to get itchy to find out what exactly was wrong with him. He was still confident he could keep up his act, but he was also under pressure to find _something _to incriminate this place.

Despite his nightly excursions to read files, with which he'd been exponentially more careful about ever since Joey mentioned seeing him out, he still had yet to find evidence of wrongdoing by anyone. All of the tax and other financial paperwork was in order, as far as he could tell. He'd gotten through quite a few employee personnel files by that time. He knew that was technically confidential information, and he was probably breaking a law or two by going through them, but it had to be done. He wanted to know exactly what he'd gotten into here.

He'd wondered about Joey's story since she'd mentioned she'd been brought here by the cops. She hadn't elaborated since, and he hadn't made it to the patient files just yet. She was his friend and he liked spending time with her, but his instincts had immediately gone on lockdown when she'd told him she knew of his nighttime trips to the nurses' station. He hadn't thought anybody could possibly have known about that. Joey was either unusually perceptive or she wasn't being fully honest with him...

Inhumanly strong hands suddenly seized him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him from the hallway. His mind didn't have time to grasp what was happening before he felt a hand clamp over his mouth and his back slammed into a painfully solid wall. The air was knocked out his lungs and bright lights popped in front of his eyes.

Ray Olsen's face swam into a view, his teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Ryan stared at him, fighting the urge to unleash some furious pounding on this guy. Jordan West wasn't a cop, he wouldn't have the same instincts or training as Ryan Wolfe.

"You've been watching me," Ray growled, barely louder than a whisper. His eyes burned with a deep, psychotic fire. "I don't like it when people watch me."

He stepped closer to Ryan, his face mere inches from his. "You're different..." he remarked softly. "You're different from most of the delusional morons they bring through this place... You're like me, aren't you?"

Ryan had no answer, even if Ray's hand hadn't still been pressed against his mouth.

"You're not dead yet," Ray said quietly. "The others... they walk but their eyes are empty. They talk but their spirits are made of ash. You can do whatever you want to them and they don't even feel it. They're shells. Hollow, broken shadows of what they used to be, but not us. I can see it in your eyes. We still feel, we still think. We still fight."

Ryan had heard quite enough. In one lightning motion, he grabbed Ray's arm and, using his own body weight for leverage, twisted. The move spun Ryan out of Ray's hold, and Ray was pressed up against the wall frontways with his arm pinned up behind his back.

"You were right about that last part," Ryan snarled in Ray's ear, his voice a deathly hiss. "If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you."

Ray seemed to sense that Ryan would never do such a thing, because he just laughed emptily. "I knew there was more to you than good looks and silence, Jordan."

Something Ray had said suddenly echoed in Ryan's mind. _You can do whatever you want to them and they don't even feel it._

The ghost... Joey had said it hurts people sometimes...

"You're the ghost, aren't you?" Ryan hissed, his voice like ice. "You're the one who's been hurting people here."

Ray laughed again, but didn't make any other answer.

The sound sent waves of molten rage coursing through Ryan's veins. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was people who inflicted pain on others just for the fun of it.

He gave Ray a hard shake. "If I even get the slightest _hint _that you've hurt someone, or you've done anything to make anyone here feel unsafe, you will have me to answer to, do you understand me? No one will be able to save you from me. Not the doctors, not anyone. I will make you regret that you were ever born. Got me?"

Ray grinned. "I gotcha, boss."

Ryan glared at him, pressing him against the wall a little harder. Then he released him and stormed from the room, Ray's hollow laughter still chiming in his ears.

**::|+|::**

Natalia held her phone up to her ear, waiting for the all-too-familiar sound of Dr. Schaeffer's voicemail. But she wasn't prepared for what she heard instead.

There was a click and then a woman's voice said, "I'm pretty sure this constitutes harassment."

Natalia was so taken aback, she nearly forgot how to speak. "Dr. Alexandra Schaeffer?"

The woman on the other end sighed exasperatedly. "Speaking."

"This is Natalia Bo..."

"I know who you are," Dr. Schaeffer said sourly. "Natalia Boa Vista from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, the woman who has been calling me non-stop for the past two weeks looking for information about Marble Tree."

"Yes," Natalia said, excitement building in her chest. "We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the nature of your resignation and your claim against Dr. Lisa Murphy."

The woman sighed again. "Look," she said tiredly. "I've been trying to ignore you because I simply don't want to talk about that. It was a stupid thing for me to do and my career will never be the same because of it. I'm serving out my penance and now I would really just like to be left alone."

Natalia frowned. "But you claimed Dr. Murphy was abusing her patients," she said.

"I made it all up. Lisa never hurt anyone. All she ever did wrong was get the promotion I wanted. I made up that story to try to get her fired. It was stupid and I'm sorry I ever thought of it."

Natalia was at a loss for words. Two weeks of tracking this woman down, and this was all that had come of it? The whole thing had been a lie?

"So you're saying there never was patient abuse going on at Marble Tree by Dr. Murphy?" Natalia asked, flabbergasted.

"Not by Lisa or anyone else," Dr. Schaeffer said, genuine shame permeating her voice. "The staff there has never been anything but professional and compassionate to all coworkers, patients and their families. Does that answer all your questions? I'd really appreciate it if you would stop calling me."

It took Natalia a moment to find her voice. "Y-yes. Thank you."

Dr. Schaeffer hung up. Natalia sat there with her phone still pressed to her ear in shock. Finally she pushed the end button and put it down.

She couldn't believe it. All this time, all the calls, all the research... down to _nothing_? Just workplace politics gone wrong? As much as she felt she should be relieved, she couldn't help but feel the dull ache of disappointment in the pit of her stomach.

So there wasn't anything sketchy going on at Marble Tree. At least not being done by the employees, anyway. Did that mean all their work was for nothing?

Did that mean Ryan was putting himself in danger for nothing?

**::|+|::**

"Hey."

Ryan looked up. Joey stood there holding two styrofoam cups, a small smile on her face. He had been sitting in the courtyard, alone on the bench. Mrs. Naughton was, as usual, not far away. Today she was sitting in the grass, plucking blades that were longer than the others around them to tidy the lawn up.

"Is that seat taken?" Joey asked.

Ryan shook his head and she sat down. She held out one of the cups to him.

"I got you some tea. They had Earl Grey at Cafe Rec Room today," she said cheerfully, obviously trying to get a smile out of him.

He took the cup from her and muttered his thanks.

"Are you all right?" she asked concernedly. "You seem... bothered."

"It's nothing," he lied, his encounter with Ray still painfully fresh in his mind.

She looked down at her lap. "Okay," she said quietly, obviously not fooled. "Well, if you want to talk to someone who won't try to psychoanalyze you for it..."

"Thanks," he said quickly.

Joey nodded and took a sip of her tea. Ryan sighed, glancing at her and then turning his gaze to watch Mrs. Naughton tend the grass lovingly.

His search for anything particularly wrong with this place was swiftly proving to be a waste of time. It made him question what he was even doing here. So far Ray Olsen was the only person who Ryan suspected of wrongdoing. Still, there was something about this place...

Every day, his desire to get out of here grew stronger. But as much as he hated it here, he hated the thought of leaving Joey and Mrs. Naughton here even more. He wished there was something more he could do to help them. They were both sweet, even in their altered states of mind.

They didn't belong in this place any more than he did.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I saw "Shutter Island" yesterday for the first time. Wow, what a great movie. Not to mention incredibly appropriate to watch it while I was working on this story haha. If this story's ever putting you in the mood to watch some sort of psychological thriller, I highly recommend this one.


	22. Night Terror

**XXI**

**Night Terror**

_Maybe that's what hell is. You go mad, and all your demons come and get you just as fast as you can think them up._

- Anne Rice -

* * *

Ryan tossed and turned in the dark. The silence was deafeningly profound, but as hard as he tried, sleep still refused to come. Too many thoughts swirled through his aching head, refusing to quiet down into sleep.

Ray... gathering evidence... Joey... ghosts... barred windows... distrusting everyone around him...

He rolled over to face the wall, closing his exhausted eyes. He took deep breaths, trying to coax his mind into slowly sinking into sleep...

He heard the familiar sound of his door swinging open as the night-nurse came around for checks.

A gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

His eyes opened wide. Black, faceless shadows swirled around him. Multiple sets of hands took hold of his hands and feet, holding him down on the bed. The hand over his mouth stifled his screams. He couldn't see faces, only shapes. There were no voices either, only the muffled sounds fighting in vain to escape his own throat.

Light glinted off of the long, razor-thin needle of a syringe.

Ryan fought as hard as he could against the hands holding him down, but he was vastly outnumbered.

One of the shadows slowly and carefully aimed the needle toward his arm as another one lifted up the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Ryan screamed again and kicked and struggled harder, pain erupting all over his body.

The needle bit into his skin.

Light flared everywhere, flashing like when sunlight hits a car window. The colors were all distorted, wrong, like when the saturation is toyed with. A deafening loud static sound filled his ears, the buzz of an out of tune radio that had been shoved inside his skull.

_A hallway..._

Pictures were coming in flashes. Voices whispered, voices screamed in his head.

_Stairs..._

His feet dragged along the floor as strong arms held him up, moving quickly.

_A door..._

Cold and hot meshed into one inside his blood vessels. He didn't know up from down, dark from light. The noises were silent and yet deafening all at once. His eyes rolled up in his head. He was blind.

His back was against something excrutiatingly hard.

_...welcome back, ryan... or should we call you jordan?..._

He fought to scream, to let his tortured heart be heard, but his own body worked against him.

_...we knew you'd come back..._

Ryan kicked as hard as he could, fighting harder than ever before to free himself from whatever tangled restraint kept him clamped to this rock-like thing.

_...don't fight it... let it in... let us back in..._

Ryan moaned, the first sound to finally bust through. He felt strange, a rushing feeling swooping through his whole body.

_...you can't escape this time..._

Calling upon his last reserves of strength, Ryan flung himself to the side. The hard surface caved underneath him. His eyes snapped open. Sunlight. And then he was falling.

Ryan landed on the floor of his room with a thud, facedown. He lay there for a moment, gasping heavily, feasting on the smell of dust and lemon-scented cleaner. His whole body was drenched in sweat and shaking violently.

Sunlight warmed his back. Ryan curled himself into a ball on the floor, his mind ticking furiously as he gazed around at his bed, his dresser, the window, the bathroom...

He was okay. He was safe. It was just a nightmare.

Ryan hid his face in his hands, his eyes burning. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, painfully fast. His whole body felt sore, as if he'd been used as someone's punching bag as he slept.

Ryan rolled over onto his back and let his arms fall wide. He gazed up at the blank ceiling, fighting to calm down.

It was just a nightmare. A vivid one to say the least, but nothing more.

Nothing more.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh dear, methinks Ryan is a tad stressed out. But don't worry, it can't possibly get any worse. ... Right? ;)


	23. All For Nothing

**XXII**

**All For Nothing**

_We're all crazy and the only difference between patients and their therapists is the therapists haven't been caught yet._

- Max Walker -

* * *

Jay was startled when she saw Ryan for the second time.

His eyes were shadowed, as if he hadn't been sleeping. His hair was even more unkempt than usual and his face was horribly pale. He was nothing like he was a week ago when he was sneaking his notes to her. Last week he had enjoyed the deviousness of it all, making mischevious faces at her when no one was looking. But now... he just glared at the notepad determinedly.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly. "You don't look so good."

He looked up at her, not suprised. "I didn't sleep well last night," he replied dully.

"Why not?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. Jay wasn't satisfied.

"Why not, Jordan?"

Ryan sighed, still scribbling his notes. "It was just a nightmare," he said shortly. "No big deal."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Jay was taken aback by his snappish tone. "I'm just trying to help," she said quietly.

"I know."

They were both silent as Ryan kept scribbling.

"It just... felt so real," he finally said heavily.

Jay didn't say anything, simply waited.

"I dreamed that...," he began, but stopped and sighed before continuing reluctantly. "That people came into my room when I was sleeping and injected me with something and then dragged me away. Somewhere."

Jay frowned, her eyes sympathetic. "Sounds terrible."

"I didn't know what was going on or where I was. And then I heard..."

She looked at him sharply, silently prodding him to go on.

Ryan put the pen down, his notes finished. He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. He glanced around the room to make sure no one was in earshot. "Remember last year when I told you I heard voices? When I was tripping on S.I.N.?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Are you trying to tell me the voices are back?"

"No," he said sharply. "It was just a dream."

"Ryan..."

"Don't call me that!" he hissed sharply. "You have my notes, we're done. You should get them back to the lab right away."

He stood up quickly from the table and walked away, leaving a hurt Jay still sitting confusedly where he left her.

Something was wrong.

**::|+|::**

"You know, Jordan, I've been wondering something," Matthew said thoughtfully. "What's your story?"

Ryan stopped shaving to look at his orderly friend. He'd been granted permission to finally trim his now out-of-control stubble, but he of course had to be under strict supervision while he was using the razor. Matthew brought him all the necessary things and would take them back again when he was done.

"I mean, you seem like a fairly normal guy," Matthew continued. "A little quiet maybe. But I've seen you with Mrs. Naughton, she likes you. You're always very nice and patient with her. You seem lucid and definitely capable of taking care of yourself. So what are you doing here? You should be out there living life, man! Chasing girls, being out there with the rest of the living world, you know?"

A sad smile flickered on Ryan's face. "There's many different kinds of crazy, Matt."

Matthew chuckled. "Oh yeah? And what kind are you?"

Ryan returned his attention to shaving. "That's why I'm here."

"So you don't know?"

Ryan shrugged slightly.

Matthew laughed again. "You're a piece of work, Jordan. A real piece of work."

"Maybe that's my problem."

"All I know is this has been the most I've heard you talk in two weeks," Matthew commented. "I'll take that as a good sign. You doing okay? The food sucks, I know, but is everything else all right?"

"Fine."

"I noticed you wear the same thing every day," Matthew said. "You wash it all every couple of days and then wear it again. So I brought you some stuff. It's a little worn out, but it should fit you."

Ryan looked at him, a mixture of confusion and gratitude in his eyes.

Matthew held his hands up. "Hey, it's no big deal, dude," he said casually. "Don't worry about it. I put it all in your room. Let me know if any of it is too big for you."

Ryan didn't know what to say. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his chest for deceiving Matt along with everyone else at Marble Tree he was investigating without their knowledge. So far everyone had been nothing but wonderfully nice and helpful to him. For the first time, he began to doubt what he was even doing here.

The people here couldn't possibly be doing what he had originally suspected. People who experiment on defenseless mental patients weren't the kind of people who went out of their way to help someone feel welcome, or bring them clothes when they had none.

The only monster in this place was Ray Olsen, but Ryan had put that in the back of his mind so he could focus on the big picture. He regretted that now.

He had to have been wrong about this place. Maybe Mark Warren's death hadn't had anything to do with this place this whole time.

Maybe this whole venture was all for nothing.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I thought that quote was funny and fairly accurate :P Just FYI in case you were wondering, there will be something like 45 chapters to this story, so we're only about halfway done! There's so much more to come!


	24. Reason To Worry

**XXIII**

**Reason To Worry**

_You're lost in the circle of pain_

_Where's it all going?_

_Each day is the same_

_Where are you going?_

_Say hello, say hello_

_You're never alone._

- Nitin Sawhney, "Say Hello"

* * *

Ryan retreated within himself even more after that nightmare. Things were starting to go wrong and he wanted to head off any disasters. He realized, with a bout of self-disgust, that he'd gotten far too comfortable here. He was letting his guard down and he couldn't let that happen.

He all but stopped talking to any staff member. Even Matthew was only granted a word or two a day. Ryan saw the concern in the doctors and nurses immediately, since he'd been making "progress." He just hoped that wouldn't lead to many suspicions. His one-on-one sessions with Dr. Fletcher had become rather dull, since Ryan reduced his answers to mere head shakes or shrugs.

Ryan just needed to slip back under the radar and stay there.

He sat in group therapy as per the daily routine, and as usual he said not a word. He listened, rather bored, as the other patients on his ward shared their thoughts or feelings, and never offered commentary even when he wanted to.

There was a new patient there today, Ryan had noticed when he'd walked in and sat down. The new guy was a scrawny, twitchy-looking man with features like a squirrel. He had short, wispy blonde hair and small, watery brown eyes.

"Hello, everyone," the nurse overseeing the session said cheerfully once everyone had found a seat. Her name was Gina. "Before we get started today, we have a new member of our group. This is Ben Reynolds."

The new guy gave a timid sort of half-wave. There were a few mutterings of affirmation among the group, but no one really made much of an effort to be enthusiastic.

"Ben, as our newest member would you like to start us off today?" Gina asked kindly.

"Oh...," Ben mumbled, his voice as timid as the rest of him. "What do I say?"

"Anything you'd like," Gina said encouragingly.

"Okay... Well, um... I suppose I could say something about myself...," he began meekly. "I'm originally from Tampa. Um... I was brought here by my wife because she doesn't believe me."

"She doesn't believe what?" Gina asked.

Ryan was barely listening. He really didn't have much interest in other people's problems at the moment.

"Oh, I told her I had to keep drinking water and staying covered in wet blankets and such."

Gina frowned. "You're not covered in blankets right now."

"I had a whole gallon of water this morning," Ben assured her. "I should be all right for another hour or so."

"And why do you need to stay so well hydrated?" she asked.

"Because if I don't, I'm going to spontaneously combust," he said seriously.

A bipolar woman three seats to Ryan's right let out a loud, barking cackle, sounding like a hyena. A few more patients joined in chuckling. Ben looked scandalized.

"Marie, it's not polite to laugh at other people," Gina chided.

"It happened to my father!" Ben insisted. "One day he was just out mowing the lawn and the next moment there was nothing left of him but a pile of ash. It'll happen to me too if I'm not careful. I don't want to suddenly just burst into flame, thank you very much."

Unfortunately, this only made some of the patients laugh even harder. Ryan sighed. This was far from funny, and he was really getting sick of this kind of thing day in and day out.

Ryan glanced to his left and froze. Ray was staring at Ben, a snarling grin on his face and a hungry look in his eyes. Ryan didn't like it one bit.

Ray suddenly met Ryan's gaze and his grin widened. Ryan narrowed his eyes threateningly at him, but Ray didn't seem to care. He turned his attention back on Ben, ignoring Ryan.

If they had been out in the real world and Ray had been looking at him that way, Ryan would have surely been reaching for his gun by now.

**::|+|::**

"Lieutenant Caine?"

Horatio turned to see Jay standing behind him in the atrium. His first instinct was to be worried, especially because she had a concerned look on her face.

"Do you have a moment?" she asked.

"Of course, Dr. Karishma. Is something wrong?"

"I just wanted to talk about something privately with you," she said hesitantly. "About Ryan."

His fears were confirmed. He looked around and found the atrium otherwise deserted. "Okay, well, we should be all right in here I think. What's on your mind? You didn't say anything when you brought us Ryan's notes two days ago."

"I needed time to think about it," she said. "I didn't want to jump to any conclusions."

"Okay. What's on your mind?"

"I'm worried about Ryan," she said heavily. "He wasn't himself on our last visit."

A twinge of fear rippled through his gut. "How so?"

"He seemed... distracted. He looked awful, as if he hadn't slept, and he told me it was because he had a nightmare."

"And you don't believe him?"

"I thought I did, but I can't help but feel he was hiding something. As if there was more to the story but for whatever reason wanted to keep it from me."

Horatio thought all of this over silently.

"I think that place might be starting to get to him," she said finally. "I don't know what will happen if he stays there much longer."

Horatio didn't answer for a few moments. "Thank you for telling me about this," he finally said. "We're very grateful that you're watching him for us."

Jay nodded. "It's the least I can do."

"Let's let Ryan work things out for now," Horatio said slowly. "If he needed help or needed to be pulled out, he would have said so in his notes."

Jay raised an eyebrow wryly. "Would he?"

Horatio smirked, but his eyes were still pained. "He knows what's at stake here. He'll be all right. If he wasn't, he would get word to us that something was wrong."

**::|+|::**

Eric and Calleigh pressed themselves into the wall, both listening raptly as Horatio said his goodbyes and Jay left. They heard their leader sigh and then his footsteps moved off in the direction of his office.

They looked at each other worriedly. They'd both overheard the entire conversation, but the thing that had concerned them the most was the tone of Horatio's voice. They could tell he was worried, and Horatio Caine didn't scare easy.

If he was worried, then there was certainly reason to be.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh my gosh I'm so excited. The next chapter is the point in the story that I've been most excited to get to. We are on the cusp of the exciting bit, people! Stay tuned! :D


	25. Spontaneous Combustion

**XXIV**

**Spontaneous Combustion**

_Your fingers were crossed behind your back before you ever gave me a chance_

_But now I have learned to trust myself and I don't need anyone else_

_No one's here to light the candle_

_No one's here to light the way_

_It's something I will have to handle_

_My way._

- Trapt, "Stay Alive"

* * *

Ryan stared up at the ceiling, his hands laced behind his head. He gazed at the grey pre-dawn sunlight slowing growing brighter across the blank canvass above, the clouds passing across the sky creating living shadows above. He sighed and stretched his legs for about the fifth time.

He was having a hard time sleeping again. Even after the nightmare five days ago, for the most part he slept just fine. But for whatever reason, tonight he just couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. He'd cancelled his nightly trip to read files, but something else was still wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Now it was still at least two hours before the patients would be roused for breakfast and he felt uncomfortably awake.

Ryan sighed again and frustratedly sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and stood up, bending down quickly to pick up his jeans from the floor and slide them on over his boxers. The hospital was warm, so he left his feet bare. Maybe a quick walk would quiet his mind.

He nudged his door open and stepped out into the deserted hallway. No one was awake yet, and the day-shift staff probably wouldn't be in for at least another hour.

But something was wrong.

He froze just beyond his door, listening hard. Hushed voices were coming from the direction of the lobby, but they were very faint and oddly echoed. After a few seconds of listening, he deduced they were coming from one of the staff bathrooms there. They were usually kept locked at night, since whoever was on duty at night had a key and they didn't want patients wandering in there. The voices sounded male.

Ryan began walking slowly toward the lobby, which was in the same vicinity as the rec room. He hadn't gone three steps when a different voice suddenly rang out behind him.

"Hey!"

Ryan jumped and spun around. The night guard was walking toward him quickly. He was an older man, in his late fifties or so.

"You shouldn't be out of your bed, kid," he said seriously. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go on back to your room then. You still got a couple hours 'til breakfast, you look like you could use some more sleep," the guard told him, not unkindly.

Ryan hesitated. "I... I can't."

The guard frowned and took another step closer to him. "What do you mean you can't?"

Ryan glanced in the direction of the bathroom. He could still hear the near-silent voices drifting toward him down the hallway. Every last one of his instincts was clamoring for him to go now.

He set off walking quickly toward the rec room.

"Hey!" the guard cried, hurrying after him.

Ryan picked up the pace. Gina was on duty that night, and she was sitting at the desk in the nurses' station. She looked up, startled, when he came bursting into the rec room, the guard hot on his heels.

"Jordan!" she cried, hurrying to get up from the desk and out to them. "What's wrong, why are you out of bed?"

The guard grabbed Ryan by the arm. He struggled, which only made the guard tamp down on him harder.

"Didn't you hear it?" Ryan demanded, frustrated. They were both just as close as he was to the bathroom, but neither of them seemed to have heard anything. The voices were silent for the time being, but Ryan knew he hadn't imagined them.

"Hear what?" the guard asked sourly.

"Shh!" Ryan hissed. Both Gina and the guard suddenly fell silent, looking at each other concernedly. Ryan stared toward the door to the staff bathroom, his heart pounding.

A man's terrified shriek suddenly exploded from the bathroom. The three of them jumped, Gina and the guard too startled to move.

The door to the bathroom shot open.

Out flew Ben Reynolds, screaming uncontrollably, flames engulfing his arms and parts of his back and chest. Maniacal laughter followed him out.

Gina screamed and the guard yelled incoherently.

Ben screamed over and over again, careening out of control around the lobby as the flames slowly spread to the rest of his shirt. Ray Olsen stepped out of the bathroom, barely able to breathe from laughing so hard.

Horror washed over Ryan as he looked desperately around the room for a fire extinguisher. The guard sprinted toward Ray, who was still roaring with laughter, and tackled him to the ground. Gina rushed toward Ben, but she was too hysterical to get too close.

"Stop, Ben!" she cried desperately, tears of hysteria pouring down her face. She made a few feeble motions with her hands as if to try to pat out the flames, but she couldn't make herself touch him.

All the while, Ben crashed into the wall and writhed around in a panic as the flames kept on spreading. The smell of smoke and burning hair filled the room sickeningly.

While all of this was happening, Ryan's instincts and police training took over. He bolted to the nurses' station. Upon trying the doorknob, he found it locked.

"Damn it!" he growled. There was certainly no time to either pick the lock or get the key from Gina. He stared at the large glass pane that made up most of the upper half of the door. He suddenly wished he'd brought his jacket with him, something he could use to protect himself from what he was about to do. But there was nothing for it now.

Ryan gritted his teeth tightly and then slammed his fist straight through the glass.

Glass shards splintered everywhere, shattering loudly as they exploded from the door. White hot pain flashed in Ryan's hand, but there was no time to worry about either that or the warm, thick feeling of blood seeping out from his knuckles.

Ryan reached through the window and unlocked the door. He dashed inside and made straight for the cabinet he'd explored on his first night out. He found the thick, grey blankets he'd seen and snatched one from the shelf, unfolding it as he sprinted back to the lobby.

Ben was still screaming, Gina was still crying, Ray was still laughing and the guard was still trying to restrain him.

Ryan unfurled the blanket and slammed himself into Ben's flaming body, tackling him to the ground. Ryan ignored the searing feeling as the flames tried to lick at his own skin. He wrapped the blanket around Ben as fast as he could, smothering the fire.

Finally it was out. Ben sobbed in intense pain and mortal fear, curling into the fetal position on the floor. His shirt had borne the brunt of the fire's damage, but Ryan could see he had some serious burns on his arms and torso. Gina collapsed to her knees next to Ben, and she crawled forward to examine his wounds.

Ryan dragged himself away from Ben, panting heavily as he sat on the ground. A stinging flash in his left hand reminded him that he had indeed been so idiotic as to punch through a glass window. He cradled his torn up fist in his other hand, looking at the dark red blood steadily oozing out of the lacerations. He carefully began to pull the tiny shards of glass lodged in his skin out with his shaking right hand.

He finished pulling out what glass he could see and let his hands drop tiredly to his sides. His heart was racing so fast, beads of sweat dripping sluggishly on his forehead. Ryan forced air into his lungs, fighting to calm himself.

Ryan suddenly looked up. Both the guard and Gina were looking at him with utterly bewildered looks on their faces. He felt heat rise up in his neck and cheeks.

So much for slipping back under the radar.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So Ryan saved Ben's life, he's a hero! And Ray was caught in the act of hurting someone. All good, yes? ;)


	26. Reunion

**XXV**

**Reunion**

_I'm hanging on another day_

_Just to see what you will throw my way_

_And I'm hanging on to the words you say_

_You said that I will be okay._

- Lifehouse, "Broken"

* * *

Walter and Calleigh waited anxiously as the elevator rose painfully slowly, the silence between them palpable. It only took one worried glance at each other to know they had both received the same text from Horatio.

The elevator doors finally opened into the lab and the two of them hurried out. Horatio, Frank, Natalia and Eric were already gathered together in an out-of-the-way corner near the reception desk. Calleigh and Walter hastened toward them.

The colleagues barely acknowledged each other before Walter blurted out, "What's going on, H?"

The redheaded lieutenant looked somber, but he kept his cool in front of his team. "We just received a call-out," he explained. "There's been an attempted murder at Marble Tree."

All of them were horrified. Natalia covered her mouth with one hand.

"What happened?" Frank asked.

"Is Ryan okay?" Eric added, fighting to keep a handle on his emotions. He was worried for his friend.

"Apparently a patient tried to kill another," Horatio explained. "He set him on fire."

Calleigh's eyes widened. Natalia looked close to tears.

"And Ryan?" Eric pressed.

"We don't know," Horatio said heavily. "No names were given, for all we know he wasn't even remotely involved. But we're heading out there now. I'll contact you all as soon as I have more information. Who's coming with me?"

The team was silent for a moment as they looked around at each other. Every last one of them wanted to go, but they knew that would be a little too inconspicuous.

"I have a lot of work to do," Walter said tightly, obviously fighting to keep his voice even and carefree. "Text me if anything comes up."

With that, he left the group to head toward the locker room. Natalia watched him go sadly. She knew the big guy was just as distressed about the possibility of Ryan being hurt as she was, this was just his way of dealing with it. He pretended not to care because he didn't want to seem weak.

She smiled weakly. "I'd go, but I wouldn't trust myself to not blow Ryan's cover. I'm a little emotional at the moment."

Horatio smiled kindly at her, understanding.

"If it ain't a homicide, there'd be no reason for me to go," Frank grumbled sourly.

Calleigh looked up at Eric. So it was between the two of them.

"You go ahead," Calleigh told him. "We both know you want to."

Eric nodded gravely. "Thanks, Cal."

"If you get a chance, tell Ryan I say hi," she said lightly, also leaving.

Eric met Horatio's eyes. His own feelings were reflected there in that gaze. They both worried for their friend and colleague. Ryan was like a son to Horatio and a little brother to Eric. Neither of them had been sure or pleased about Ryan taking this assignment.

The thought of _it _taking _him _was too much for either of them to bear.

**::|+|::**

Eric anxiously tapped the badge clipped to his jeans, chewing on his bottom lip as he stood in the elevator with Horatio. They were on their way up to the fourth floor of Marble Tree. It hadn't done anything to soothe their worries that the incident had happened on Ryan's ward and they still hadn't received the names of the patients involved.

Horatio was very quiet next to him, even more than usual, if that was possible. They both watched as the numbers for each floor lit up one by one at a painfully slow pace. Eric took a deep breath as the light moved from three to four. The little bell sounded and the doors opened.

The brothers stepped out together. The lobby they stepped out into was surprisingly vacant and quiet. The first-responding pair of patrol officers were there: One was speaking quietly to a middle-aged doctor and the other was finishing putting yellow crime scene tape around the area. There didn't seem to be any blatant evidence of wrongdoing, save for a handful of scorchmarks on the tile. Horatio and Eric approached the doctor and the officer.

The police officer nodded to them when they came over. "Lieutenant. CSI Delko."

"Officer Green," Horatio said. "What's the situation?"

"Officers, I'm Dr. Noah Fletcher," the doctor said. "I'm in charge of this ward." He looked at Horatio. "I believe we've met."

Horatio knew exactly what he was talking about, but he of course played dumb. "Have we?"

"You brought us one of our patients a few weeks ago," Dr. Fletcher. "Jordan West?"

Horatio pretended to think for a moment, then nodded. "That's right. So, Dr. Fletcher, what happened here?"

Dr. Fletcher looked grave. "A terrible thing. One of our patients tried to kill another earlier this morning right here in the lobby. We've kept all the patients on this ward sequestered in their rooms for now. We didn't even take them down to breakfast; we brought them food. I've let as few people as possible walk through here."

"Thanks for your help, doctor," Horatio said. "We appreciate your respect for preserving evidence."

"It's not our first go-around with this sort of thing, I'm afraid," he replied sadly.

"Where are the patients that were involved?" Eric asked.

"Ray Olsen is being held in his room by security," Dr. Fletcher said. "The man he attacked, Ben Reynolds, was sent to the hospital with serious burns."

Horatio and Eric both breathed an inward sigh of relief. Ryan was okay, at least as far as they knew.

"Were there any witnesses?" Horatio asked.

"Yes," Dr. Fletcher answered. "The security guard from last night, Chris Birkle, restrained Olsen during the attack. Our night-nurse Gina DiStefano was there as well. And I'm told a third patient was the one who actually saved Mr. Reynolds, put the fire out with a blanket from the nurses' station."

"We're gonna need to talk to all of them," Horatio said.

"Who was the third patient?" Eric asked.

"Actually it was Jordan West," Dr. Fletcher said amusedly. "It seems the two of you were meant to continuously cross paths, Lieutenant."

Eric fought the urge to glance at Horatio when Dr. Fletcher said the name. So Ryan had been involved. He just hoped he hadn't done anything to put himself or his cover at risk.

Horatio ignored Dr. Fletcher's comment and turned to Eric. "I'll talk to the nurse and the guard. You take Mr. West."

Eric fought to keep the gratitude out of his face and nodded.

Dr. Fletcher beckoned to Horatio. "Ms. DiStefano is this way, Lieutenant. Officer, if you follow that hallway there, you'll find Jordan's room. Just look for an orderly named Matthew Price."

Horatio followed Dr. Fletcher away from the lobby, not risking a look back. Eric took a breath and then started down the hallway the doctor had pointed out. It didn't take him long before he found an open room.

He stepped in front of the doorway and looked inside. A young black man wearing an orderly's uniform was standing against the dresser with his arms folded across his chest. A female doctor was sitting on a chair in front of the bed, bent over working on something.

Ryan was sitting on the bed in front of the doctor.

Eric almost didn't know what to do when the three of them all looked up at him. A tiny grin flickered on Ryan's face. Eric couldn't describe the relief and happiness upon seeing his friend again after worrying about him for so long. He finally remembered himself.

"I'm looking for Jordan West," he said.

The orderly took a step toward him, noticing his badge and gun. "You found him," he said, extending his hand. "Matt Price."

Eric shook his hand. "Eric Delko, CSI. I need to talk to Mr. West about what happened this morning."

"All done," the doctor said, scooting away from Ryan in her chair. Eric saw now that his hand was bandaged and she was gathering up the leftovers of some kind of suture kit. She got up and left the room.

"Would it be all right if I talk to you in private?" Eric asked Ryan.

Maintaining character, Ryan glanced up at Matthew nervously. His orderly friend shrugged. "It's up to you, Jordan."

Ryan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"I'll come back in about fifteen minutes," Matthew said, moving to go. As he passed Eric on the threshold, he stepped in close to say something only Eric could hear. "Go easy on him," he whispered. "Patients like him... they clam up in defense whenever they feel threatened or scared, and coming down on them like I know you cops are trained to do will only make it worse."

"He's not in trouble, you know," Eric retorted quietly.

"It's good you know that," Matthew replied evenly, obviously feeling protective of Ryan. "He saved a man's life this morning. He bust through a glass window with his own fist just to help the guy, needed ten stitches in his hand. Don't go treating him like a criminal."

With that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving Eric alone with Ryan.

Eric grinned.

Ryan grinned back.

**::|+|::**

"Matthew."

The young orderly looked up. "Hey, Dr. Fletcher."

The older man look worried and oddly confused about something. "Has Jordan talked to you about what happened?"

Matthew frowned. "I don't think he's said a word all morning. That cop's in there with him now. Why?"

Dr. Fletcher didn't say anything for a moment. "Gina said he put the fire out with a blanket he got after breaking into the nurses' station."

"Yeah, that's the story."

"He's only been here for two weeks... How did he know where to find the blanket?"

Matthew's frown deepened. "Huh. I don't know, I hadn't thought about that. He must have heard someone mention they were there."

"Right... That must have been it..."

"Is Ben gonna be okay?" Matthew asked.

"He has some second and third-degree burns on his arms and torso, but he'll be all right," Dr. Fletcher said distractedly. "He probably won't be coming back here, though. And Ray is being sent to a special facility for the criminally insane this afternoon. We won't be seeing any more of him, either."

"Just be glad Jordan was there," Matthew said. "He picked a hell of a good day to take a walk when he did."

"...Indeed."

**::|+|::**

Eric sat down heavily on the bed next to Ryan, who turned so he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing Eric. Neither of them could help but grin at each other.

"You okay, Wolfe?"

Ryan looked at his bandaged hand. "Yeah, it's fine. Just some stitches and they gave me some low-grade painkillers for it."

"I wasn't just talking about your hand, Ryan."

To Eric's sudden dismay, his friend's smile flickered.

"I'm okay, Delko," Ryan answered quietly.

"You don't sound too sure about that," Eric joked half-heartedly.

Ryan chuckled. "Well, it certainly hasn't been a picnic."

"So this Ray guy is bad news, huh?"

Ryan nodded. "He's one of the only real crazy people in here. Everyone else is just either sick or... lost."

"We ran background on him like you asked," Eric told him. "He's been here for seven years. About the same time he got here, the cases of abuse of patients started."

Ryan sighed and ran his unbandaged hand through his hair. "I should have known," he growled. "It was Ray this whole time. I should have done something about him sooner."

"You were focused on the bigger picture," Eric told him. "That was more important. And now that we have solid evidence on Ray, we can probably start to wrap this thing up. You'll be able to get out of here soon."

But to Eric's surprise, Ryan didn't look happy.

"What's up, Wolfe? Is there something you're not telling us?"

His friend was silent for a moment.

"No."

Eric gave him a look that clearly said _Don't lie to me._ "Come on, Wolfe, don't hold out on me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just get the feeling something else is going on around here, that's all," Ryan said simply. "I just haven't found the evidence yet."

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"You should probably get going," Ryan told him. "And act annoyed. Jordan wouldn't have wanted to talk to you much. He doesn't like cops and would've given you mostly one-word answers."

Eric laughed, standing up. "Whatever you say, Wolfe."

Ryan didn't get up from the bed, but he did hold out his good hand. "It was good to see you, Delko."

Eric shook his hand. "Good to see you too, Wolfe. We can't wait to get you back."

Ryan smiled. "I can't wait to be back."

They let go of each other reluctantly and Eric turned to go. He stopped when he got to the door, then turned around one last time.

"You're gonna be okay, Wolfe. You know that, right?"

Ryan grinned, a flash of mischief in his hazel eyes. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Phew, that was a long one. :P More to come soon!


	27. Caught

**XXVI**

**Caught**

_A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?_

- Albert Einstein -

* * *

The patients of the fourth floor were kept in their rooms all morning until the crime scene was released. There wasn't much evidence to collect and because there were an abundance of witnesses, it was all fairly cut and dry. They were allowed out for the rest of their daily activities after lunch.

Ryan sat at a table in the rec room. Between not sleeping well and the horrors of the early morning hours, he was exhausted. He sat at the table, his head resting heavily in his good hand. His left hand ached dully, the painkillers beginning to wear off. His eyelids felt heavier than lead. He was too tired to do anything except sit there quietly.

Mrs. Naughton sat across from him. Instead of her usual mumbling, today she was completely silent. She watched him with a worried look on her face, ignoring the dominoes that she usually tinkered with in front of her.

A gentle hand suddenly touched his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. Joey slid into the seat next to him.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded dully.

"All the doctors are talking about what you did," she said. "You saved Ben's life. You're a hero."

Ryan sighed heavily. For whatever reason, he didn't feel much like one.

"I got you something."

Joey dug something out of her pocket and slid it across to him. He couldn't help but give her a small smile when he saw the little pile of tea packets there.

"I raided the Cafe Rec Room when no one was looking," she said deviously. "I got you one of every flavor so you can have it in your room whenever. And a little something special just for you."

She picked out one of the packets, which looked very different from the others, and held it up for him. The paper was white and thicker than usual, as if she had made it herself from plain computer paper. There were only three letters handwritten on the packet: ICE.

"What's 'ice'?" he asked amusedly.

"A very special brew," she said mischeviously. "I mixed together two different teabags into one and then added a whole bunch of sugar. It's the best tea I have ever tasted, so you should only drink it after the worst day ever and things couldn't possibly get any worse. I call it ice 'cause you use it to chill out," she added, giggling.

Ryan couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks, Joey. Sounds great."

Joey glanced up and to the right, and gulped. Ryan didn't notice, he was poking through the other packets and depositing them into his pocket.

"I'll be right back," Joey said quickly, getting up and hurrying away.

Ryan looked up when she left so suddenly, frowning. A nurse came up to the table, bearing a tray with the familiar little paper cups on it. She handed Mrs. Naughton one of the cups and then another with water in it.

"There you go, Mrs. Naughton," she said sweetly, watching as the older woman automatically swallowed the pills. When she was finished, the nurse moved on to Ryan. She handed him a pair of cups as well.

"Here you go, Jordan," she said after she'd set them down in front of him.

Ryan did his usual performance. He popped the pills into his mouth and used his tongue to flip them underneath it. Then he drank the water and handed the empty cups back to the nurse.

But today she didn't immediately walk away. She stood there, an odd look on her face.

"Jordan, open your mouth," she ordered suddenly.

A flash of icy cold fear flooded into his veins. He just gazed up at her, trying to stay calm.

"Jordan, I said open your mouth, please," she repeated.

The bitter taste of the pills was beginning to fill his mouth. He needed to spit them out.

"Swallow your pills, Jordan," she demanded sternly, setting the tray down on the table and bending down so her face was close to his. She gave him another cup of water.

The taste was becoming unbearable. There was nothing for it.

Ryan hurriedly gulped the water, letting the pills slide down his throat with it.

"Let me see," she said.

Ryan opened his mouth and moved his tongue around so she could see he wasn't hiding anything. He felt as if he'd just swallowed a rock.

"How long have you been cheeking your medication, Jordan?" she asked, a little gentler.

He didn't answer, his heart pounding.

The nurse sighed. "I'm going to have to notify Dr. Fletcher about this. Then you'll have to start taking your medication under his strict supervision from now on. He may even prescribe something different, or more of it. This was not a good thing to do, Jordan."

She walked away from him, taking her tray with her.

Ryan forced himself to take a deep breath. It was going to be all right, he would still be able to function just fine even if they made him take the medication. Nothing had changed. He just needed to never make such a bad mistake ever again.

He glanced at Mrs. Naughton. She was watching him sharply.

"If you have tears, prepare to shed them now," she whispered darkly.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Things are not looking good for our .007. And by the way, that quote by Mrs. Naughton is appropriate in more ways than one. ;) See if you can figure out what I mean, but it's not supposed to be easy. More soon, thanks for reading!


	28. Side Effects

**XXVII**

**Side Effects**

_You and I walk a fragile line_

_I have known it all this time_

_But I never thought I'd live to see it break_

_It's getting dark and it's all too quiet_

_And I can't trust anything now._

- Taylor Swift, "Haunted" -

* * *

At first, nothing seemed different.

After he was caught faking swallowing his medicine, Ryan was forced to take the pills twice a day under the close scrutiny of Dr. Fletcher. He was told he was on some sort of cocktail of mood stabilizers, antidepressants and antipsychotics, and he was on a higher dose than most other patients. He was told this was because he'd demonstrated an uncooperative and highly melancholic attitude.

Well, he couldn't really argue with them there.

So Ryan was subject to having his mouth inspected after every dose of whatever drugs they put in front of him. He swallowed all of them obediently. He was also watched closely even after he took them without incident, so he couldn't even sneak off to his room to vomit the pills back up. He was helpless.

It all began with a tiny tremor in his hand.

Ryan didn't even think anything of it at first. He simply attributed it to his continued difficulty sleeping. He was tired all the time now, his nightly trips to the nurses' station really starting to weigh on him. He went every night, but his productivity seemed to be suffering for obvious reasons. But he couldn't stop now. He was so painfully close to something, he could feel it pricking the inside of his heart more with every passing hour.

Then the headaches started.

Sometimes it hurt so bad, he couldn't even see straight. The white lights blaring down from every ceiling in the hospital were borderline unbearable. A door clicking closed across the room may as well have been a gunshot next to his ear. His hands shook. His muscles ached. Everything hurt and he couldn't even sleep to make it feel better.

Food lost all appeal. His meals began consisting of less and less. He forced as much down his throat as he could, but there was only so much he could make himself eat. A couple of crackers became a large meal to him. He could almost feel what little excess weight he had melting off his body more every day.

The worst part was he didn't even have the strength to do anything about it. He was just too tired. He was vaguely aware of how bad this was becoming for him, but he couldn't make himself care.

And that was the scariest part of all.

**::|+|::**

"Thanks for making time for this meeting, everyone," Horatio said quietly to his team. The four of them looked at him from their various seats around the table, all of them looking slightly more worn than usual.

Horatio sighed. "We need to talk about the Mark Warren case."

"Or lack thereof," Walter muttered bitterly. "Wolfe's busting his ass trying to get us _anything_, and we can't even find the tiniest little scrap of evidence to help him."

"The brass wants us to wrap it up," Horatio told them. "They think the case is dead. Ryan hasn't been able to get us anything that implicates anyone working at Marble Tree. Ray Olsen has confessed to all the previously reported cases of abuse against patients, but he couldn't have had anything to do with Mark Warren."

They were all silent. A couple of weeks ago, every last one of them would have argued until they were blue in the face. But now... they knew surrender was rapidly approaching.

"There has to be _something_," Natalia insisted. "What about all the autopsy findings?"

"Inconclusive," Eric sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "All of it. The blow to the head could have happened any way. The wine in his lungs could have been from forcing it down his own throat, and there was no chipped teeth or other trauma in his mouth to suggest it had been forced on him by someone else."

"And the only fingerprints on the murder weapon is of Jay, who has an airtight alibi," Walter added morosely.

"There were a few other unidentifiable smudges on the bottle," Eric said. "They could have come from Mark."

"There was no evidence of forced entry, the pills were taken out in Mark's name," Calleigh listed off. "Dr. Schaeffer apparently lied about the whole thing about the Marble Tree staff abusing patients. Does that leave us with _anything_ to suggest a homicide?"

"The bruising on Mark!" Natalia cried, losing her patience. "Tom said it could have come from several people restraining him!"

"_Could _have," Eric reminded her sadly.

They were all silent around the table.

"I can't believe this," Natalia whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "We must have missed something."

"Another medical examiner was brought in on the case for a second opinion," Horatio told them. "He's ruling it a suicide. Dr. Loman is maintaining his findings, but at this point the evidence is subject to opinion. All the higher-ups want this case closed."

"We can't close a case just because _someone _with a higher payscale doesn't want to deal with it anymore," Natalia mumbled bitterly.

"I agree," Horatio said. "But we may not have a choice. We're going to have to let this one go and bring Ryan home."

"After all he's been through for this case...," Calleigh remarked distantly, shaking her head.

"He's not gonna like that," Eric pointed out with a touch of dark humor. "Wolfe is stubborn, he's not gonna let this go that easy."

* * *

**Author's Note: **:)


	29. Lashing Out

**XXVIII**

**Lashing Out**

_I have lost myself again_

_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found_

_Yeah, I think that I might break_

_Lost myself again and I feel unsafe_

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_

_I am small, I'm needy_

_Warm me up and breathe me._

- Sia, "Breathe Me" -

* * *

Jay stared at Ryan, open-mouthed in shock.

And she'd thought he'd looked bad _last _week.

The man sitting across the table from her was barely recognizable from the person she'd come to know. He bent over the notepad, an angry scowl on his haggard face. He somehow looked thinner since the last time she'd seen him, and his eyes were heavily shadowed.

"You don't look good," she whispered. "Not at all. What's going on?"

Ryan merely answered her with an indistinguishable grunt.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," she said tersely.

Ryan sighed frustratedly and put the pen down, sliding the notes across to her. With the speed of a cobra, she snatched his hand before he could retract it. She looked at it and then at him, letting it go.

"Your hand is shaking," she remarked concernedly. "How long have you had the tremor?"

Ryan shrugged, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "A couple days. It's no big deal."

Jay was silent for a moment. "Are you taking the medication?"

Ryan sighed again. "I have to. They caught me faking and now they watch me every single time."

Jay shook her head. "You're having a bad reaction to the pills," she pointed out tightly. "They should either lower your dose or change the prescription entirely. Have you told them about your symptoms?"

"The last thing I need is more attention," Ryan growled.

"This is serious," she insisted. "It's only going to get worse if you don't tell them!"

Ryan held his head in his good hand, too exhausted to argue.

Jay looked down at her hands. She was not looking forward to breaking the news to him.

"I've been told there's talk...," she began slowly. "Talk of aborting the assignment."

Ryan looked at her sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Something about not enough evidence," Jay replied quietly.

"After everything I've done here," he rumbled murderously. "I am _not_ leaving without something to show for it. There's something else going on here, I just know it!"

"I hate to say it," she told him softly. "But you're sounding paranoid."

"And I am so _sick _of people telling me that!" Ryan growled, fighting to keep his voice down. He stood up from the table. "If no one's going to help me, then I'll just find out what's going on myself. Do me a favor and don't come back."

With that, he stormed away from the table.

Jay watched him go, dumbstruck. Something horribly wrong was happening here.

The Ryan she knew would _never _speak to her like that.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Short one, I know. Sorry :(. And sorry also for the late update. I wanted to put this one up this morning but my Internet decided to go on strike for a bit. More tomorrow, promise! And it's gonna be oh so good... :D


	30. Fracture

**XXIX**

**Fracture**

_Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies_

_So I don't know what's real and what's not_

_So I don't know what's real and what's not_

_Always confusing the thoughts in my head_

_So I can't trust myself anymore._

- Evanescence, "Going Under" -

* * *

Ryan paced the floor of his room furiously, his conversation with Jay still buzzing in his ears.

_They can't do this to me! _he thought angrily. _They're not here, they don't know what's going on!_

He stopped and sat down heavily on his bed, holding his head in his hands.

_But what _is _going on? _a quieter voice in the back of his mind asked. _You have no reason to suspect anyone here. You still haven't managed to dig up anything on anybody. Don't you think it might be _possible _that this place might actually be okay?_

Ryan sighed. He couldn't explain it, even to himself. If his years as a cop had ever taught him anything, it was to trust his instincts, and for whatever reason, his instincts were telling him something else was going on here.

He just wished someone would _believe_ him!

Ryan stood up from his bed. He knew exactly who he needed to talk to. He hadn't seen Joey in a couple days, actually not since that afternoon when he'd been caught pretending to take his medicine by that nurse. He hadn't thought anything of it; He assumed she had other friends, perhaps even on one of the other floors. But he needed to talk to her now.

She'd been the one to tell him about the ghost. She'd been the one who cared about him and made sure he was all right after the incident with Ben and Ray. She was his only friend here.

At that moment, a friend was all he wanted.

**::|+|::**

"Dr. Karishma, what's wrong?" Horatio asked, walking toward the lobby. Jay was standing at the reception desk, looking terribly worried.

"Lieutenant," she answered, coming toward him. "I need to talk to you."

Her tone was urgent, which set off the alarms in Horatio's head. He nodded, frowning. "All right, come to my office."

As they walked, she spoke to him in a low voice so as not to be overheard. "I'm worried about him," she said, knowing he knew exactly who she was talking about. "That place seems to be getting to him."

"Did you tell him that it would probably end soon?"

"Yes. But as you can probably imagine, he didn't take it very well."

**::|+|::**

Ryan scoured the rec room. He searched the courtyard. He looked in every patient-accesible place in the entire hospital.

Joey was nowhere to be found.

A fresh headache was reaching a crescendo inside his skull, a thin layer of sweat appearing on his forehead. His breath was tight in his chest.

He saw a nurse across the rec room from where he now stood. He recognized her as the one who had caught him that day. Alice, he remembered her name was. He approached her frustratedly.

"Hi, Jordan," she greeted kindly. "How are you today?"

"Where's Joey?" he demanded, ignoring her greeting.

She frowned at him. "Joey? Who's Joey?"

"Josseline!" he growled. His head was killing him.

She looked at him as if he had three heads. "Uh... Josseline? Is she... a patient here?"

Ryan stared at her disbelievingly. His ears had to be playing tricks on him. There was no way she just said what he thought she said.

"Of course she's a patient here!" he cried.

Alice put her hands up bracingly. "Okay, Jordan, just calm down," she said soothingly, genuine fear betrayed in her brown eyes. "When... um... When was the last time you saw her?"

Ryan's blood ran cold. He stared at Alice in horror, his heart thudding in his chest. "When was the last...," he echoed hollowly. "What the _hell _is going on here?"

"Gina, can you page Dr. Fletcher, please?" Alice called. "He needs to get here right now."

"What's going on?" Ryan yelled at her, his temper completely reaching its end. "Where the hell is Joey?"

Two orderlies slowly began approaching Ryan, alerted by his shouts. Alice watched him warily.

"Jordan, take it easy," she told him coaxingly. "It's going to be all right, okay? We're going to help you."

Fear like he hadn't felt in a long time seeped into Ryan's mind. Two pairs of strong hands gripped his shoulders.

"Let's take Jordan back to his room," Alice told the orderlies, keeping her voice calm. "Dr. Fletcher can meet us there."

The orderlies moved to steer Ryan away.

A switch seemed to suddenly flick on in Ryan's head.

"Let me go!" he roared, squirming to get out of the orderlies' hold. They held him fast. He grunted and roared in frustration as he tried harder and harder.

"Jordan, it's okay!" Alice cried. "It's okay!"

"No, get off me!" Ryan bellowed, but what little energy he had left was quickly fizzling out. The orderlies were successfully dragging him toward his room.

Something solid slammed into the tangled mass of three men.

"I shall live to knock thy brains out!" screamed a harsh, crow-like voice. Mrs. Naughton hurled herself at the nearest orderly, scratching and tugging at him to let go of Ryan.

"Get him out of here!" the orderly she was attacking bellowed to his cohort. The other nodded and seized Ryan around the waist, throwing all of his weight into dragging him away.

Ryan barely had the strength to struggle as he watched in horror as Mrs. Naughton fought, cat-like, against the man who was twice her size.

"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods!" she screamed as the other orderly began half-carrying her to her room. "They kill us for their sport! Lawless are they who make their wills their law!"

Her voice died out as Ryan finally surrendered, letting the orderly steer him into his room. His mind raced with a million things, the icy fist of terror squeezing his heart painfully.

The nurse hadn't known who Joey was. That was impossible. The whole staff knew every patient, and they would never joke like that.

He didn't understand. Why wouldn't they know who he was talking about? He'd spent nearly every day with her, eaten every meal with her. Surely they had seen her with him!

He sat down on his bed and hid his face in hands, ignoring the orderly that was watching him from the door. This couldn't be happening.

This could _not_ be happening.

... What _was_ happening?

**::|+|::**

"I think Ryan might actually be starting to feel some effects of being in that place for so long," Jay told Horatio. They were in his office where they wouldn't be overheard.

"You mean stress?" he asked.

"Among other things. They caught him faking his medication, and now they supervise him while he does it. He's having a bad reaction to the pills. He refused to talk to me about it, but I could tell he hasn't been sleeping, and I have a hunch that he's not eating well either."

Horatio's blue eyes were sorrowful. He couldn't bear to think of one of his people in such misery. He made himself ask the question that had been haunting him for the past three weeks.

"Could what happened to him last year have a more-than-usual averse effect on his state of mind?"

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, as if something about his question confused her. "Absolutely," she answered slowly. "As I told him at the beginning of the assignment, the stress that was placed on his mind during that time could very well have caused a deep fracture within his subconscious, a fracture that could very possibly stay dormant for the rest of his life. But under heavy stress, particularly emotional or psychological... it could resurface again and be permanent."

Horatio stared at her, dead silent.

Jay stared back at him for a moment, then gasped. "He didn't tell you?" she breathed, horrified.

It was a moment before Horatio finally found his voice again.

"We need to get him out of there. _Now_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **An excellent idea, Horatio. But is it too late? Find out next time. Maybe. :D

In other news, there's talk of Ryan getting a love interest this season! They've hired a cute little blonde chick to play Molly Sloan, a new trace tech being transferred in from Tampa. Ryan was mentioned in the article as having a "special bond" with her or something along those lines. Hey, as long as it's something positive for our boy, I'm for it.

More soon! Stay awesome! :)


	31. Panic

**XXX**

**Panic**

_There's something inside me_

_That pulls beneath the surface_

_Consuming, confusing_

_This lack of self control I fear_

_Is never ending, controlling_

_I can't seem to find myself again_

_My walls are closing in._

- Linkin Park, "Crawling" -

* * *

Ryan stared at Dr. Fletcher, fighting to keep the panic from rising further. He was sitting on his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. The doctor was sitting on a chair in front of him. Alice was standing against the wall to his right.

"Jordan, do you understand what we're telling you?" Dr. Fletcher asked slowly.

Of course he did. That didn't mean he could believe it.

Dr. Fletcher leaned forward. "There is no patient here by the name of Josseline. Is it at all possible that this friend of yours gave you a fake name?"

Ryan was finding it very difficult to breathe, even more so to speak. His mind raced at a millions miles per second.

_Joey..._

There was no way she wasn't real. He couldn't think of a last name for her either, she must have never given it to him. What scared him the most was that he couldn't remember, after all those nights spent reading files in the nurses' station, ever reading a file for Joey. He'd read countless patient files, but none that belonged to her.

It was as if she didn't even exist...

"When was the last time you saw Josseline?" Dr. Fletcher asked. "Or Joey, as you call her?"

Ryan's mouth and throat were paper-dry. He swallowed thickly. "Five days," he whispered.

Dr. Fletcher and Alice glanced at each other. "The day we began supervising your medication intake...," Dr. Fletcher remarked thoughtfully.

Ryan buried his face in his hands, exhausted and frightened.

"So... you haven't seen her since you've started taking your lithium."

Ryan froze, the doctor's words crashing into him like a tidal wave. Cold realization creeped over his skin.

"Is it... at all _possible_...," Dr. Fletcher suggested hesitantly. "That you might have imagined her?"

"Of course not!" Ryan cried, his head shooting up from behind his hands. His eyes were wide and wild.

"Jordan... Sometimes in order to deal with a traumatic experience, our minds make us see things to help us feel better, like a friend, someone to talk to..."

"But I'm with her all the time!" Ryan cried desperately. "You've seen her! She's real!"

Dr. Fletcher looked up at Alice with a sad look on his face. Alice gave a tiny shake of her head.

It was if the floor had opened up beneath Ryan's feet. A dull roaring sounded in his ears as he gasped for air. He was drowning. His chest was on fire, his heart hammering painfully against the inside of his ribcage. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably. Ryan held his head in his hands

"Jordan, it's okay," Dr. Fletcher said quickly, coming even closer to the bed and placing his hands on Ryan's shoulders. "Just breathe. Everything is going to be all right."

But Ryan couldn't breathe. The world was imploding in on him. The loud rumbling of chaos inside his brain was deafening.

"Alice, let's get some benzos in here," Dr. Fletcher told her quietly. She nodded and raced from the room.

"Th-th-this c-can't be happening...," Ryan choked. "I d-d-don't understand..."

"You're having a panic attack, Jordan," Dr. Fletcher told him loudly, as if he felt he had to shout to get through to him. "We're going to give you something to help you relax, okay? Just hang in there."

Ryan could only keep shaking his head. Every muscle in his body was on fire. He couldn't focus on anything. His skull felt as though it was about to split open.

Alice came running back into the room, bringing with her a syringe about a third full of clear liquid.

"Jordan, stay with me," Dr. Fletcher said bracingly. Alice rolled up Ryan's t-shirt sleeve and rubbed a spot on his upper arm with an alcohol wipe. "Alice is going to give you some medicine to calm you down, okay?"

Ryan didn't have the presence of mind to resist as the needle was slid into his skin stingingly. Almost immediately he felt a strange, floating feeling behind his eyes. His vision grew blurry.

"There you go," Dr. Fletcher murmured soothingly, as if he were talking to a fussing child. "Just rest, Jordan. We'll figure this out, I promise."

Ryan's eyes began rolling up in his head. He couldn't do anything but let Alice and Dr. Fletcher guide him into lying down on the bed. He lay there, his increasingly muddled mind still trying desperately to grasp just what the hell was happening to him.

Sweet, sweet sleep was closing in all around him, sparked by whatever they had just pumped into his blood. The fear was losing its potency as he drifted away.

One question filtered into his mind like oil bleeding into water.

_Am I..._

_...Crazy?..._

And then everything was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I counted the chapters left on my plotmap. If I put out one chapter a day, this story will actually end exactly on New Year's Day. And while I think that would be really cool... That means the character death is going to happen sometime a little before Christmas and there will chapters with the team dealing with it for almost a week after, as in pretty much right on Christmas. It's going to be upsetting, people. So if this is going to put a cramp in your holidays, let me know. I could maybe stall it for a bit or something haha. For example, if from now until Christmas I updated every _other_ day, the death won't happen til after Christmas and you won't have to worry about it. Of course, there's not even a guarantee I'll be able to get out a chapter a day in the first place. Lol, this all sounds a little silly to me, but the last thing I want is to put a damper on people's holidays, so I thought I should... check. :D


	32. Three Days

**XXXI**

**Three Days**

_Imagine if you suddenly learned that the people, the places, the moments most important to you were not gone, not dead, but worse, had never been. What kind of hell would that be?_

- Christopher Plummer, "A Beautiful Mind" -

* * *

He felt buried, as if he was underneath a mountain of warm darkness. The weight pressed on his lungs and his eyes. His sleep was profound, the deepest rest he'd had in a long, long time.

And then he remembered _why _he was sleeping.

Ryan opened his eyes. They felt far too heavy to stay that way, fluttering closed again despite his efforts. His whole body felt as if it were made of stone, all of his joints cracking when he moved. He reached up a hand to rub his eyes and face drowsily.

"He's awake," a man's voice said somewhere near the door. "Go get the doc."

Ryan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He tried opening his eyes again. His vision was blurry at first, until he blinked a few times. He groggily looked to his right and saw an orderly he didn't know very well standing by the door.

"Dr. Fletcher's on his way, man," he said. "Just relax for a second."

Ryan looked up at the ceiling, slowly gathering what had happened in the last couple of days. Sunlight was pouring through the window, bathing his room in a warm, golden glow.

"Thanks, guys," came a familiar voice. "I'll take it from here."

Dr. Fletcher pulled a chair up to Ryan's bed as the orderlies left. Ryan sat up slowly.

"Easy," Dr. Fletcher said. "How do you feel?"

At first Ryan didn't know what to say. Now that he'd calmed down, he'd managed to get a grip on himself. He felt a twinge of shame for having let himself panic like that, but there would be time for that later. He just needed time to think.

"Better," he lied.

"Good," Dr. Fletcher said. "You've been asleep for nearly 16 hours, I was beginning to worry. Apparently you were in dire need of some quality rest. Not that I blame you. What happened to you was very serious, but it could have been much worse."

"Somehow I doubt that," Ryan muttered blearily.

Dr. Fletcher smiled kindly. "We have plenty of time to work through what's happening. I'm going to help you through this, don't you worry. All I need from you right now is your word that you're not going to attack any more of my staff."

Ryan bristled, annoyed. He'd hardly _attacked_ anyone. But he was starting to get another headache. The bizarre situation with Joey was surely a simple misunderstanding. He just needed time to sort through everything in his head. Until then, he just had to play along.

"I won't," he promised quietly.

Dr. Fletcher nodded. "Good man. And as much as I hate to put anything else on your plate right now, there is one other matter that we must discuss briefly. Just know that you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Ryan was listening.

"The Crime Lab called looking for you yesterday evening," Dr. Fletcher told him. "I told them you were unavailable, but they said it was urgent they bring you in for questioning about Ray Olsen's attack on Ben Reynolds."

Ryan's heart nearly lept out of his chest. He fought to keep the emotion out of his face.

"I spoke to Lieutenant Caine," Dr. Fletcher continued. "He assured me you would be well looked after and the questions would be brief. I told him to come here to do it, but he said something about protocol... Would that be something you would want to do?"

Ryan's immediate reaction was to say yes, but he painstakingly forced himself to stay in character by remaining silent.

"As I said, you don't have to go anywhere," Dr. Fletcher assured him. "Especially after yesterday, I would strongly advise against it. You're not technically required to stay here. You'd be taken care of and brought back to us, but I don't want you getting upset again."

Ryan pretended to think for a few seconds before mumbling, "I want to help."

Dr. Fletcher sighed, obviously disappointed with his decision. "Very well. I would take you myself, but I have a lot of work to do today. I'll call Lieutenant Caine and have him send someone to come get you."

**::|+|::**

Ryan didn't think he'd ever been happier to see the lab in his entire life.

He watched it come closer and closer from the back of Tripp's car, all the while feeling some of the stress of Marble Tree melting off of him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was home.

They snuck him into the lab so as few people as possible would see him, but even those who did didn't even give him a second glance, not even recognizing him. The entire team was inside a meeting room, waiting for him.

Ryan thought his heart could have burst at the sight of them.

After the initial shock of seeing each other again after so long, there was much greeting, hugging, hand-shaking, back-pounding, questions, answers and laughter. Walter gave him an even bigger bear hug than the one he'd given when Ryan left in the first place. It seemed Natalia would have held onto him forever if she were allowed, and Ryan would certainly have been fine with that at that moment. Anything to keep him grounded before the horrors stalking in the shadowy corners of his mind dragged him away. He shoved that from his thoughts.

Calleigh was even bubblier than ever, even giving him a quick peck on the cheek as she pulled out of their embrace. Eric shook his hand firmly, but then surprised him by yanking him into a quick, one-armed man-hug. All Horatio had to do was give Ryan one of his rare, little smiles. They understood each other perfectly, and they both knew the feeling was mutual.

Even the thought of having quite possibly lost his mind already couldn't dim the pure happiness and relief he felt among his friends. He didn't feel crazy with them. He felt at home.

He felt safe.

But sadly, the visiting had to die down so they could talk about business. Ryan could tell it physically pained them all to force themselves to remember why they were all there.

"You want something to eat, Wolfe?" Eric asked. "You look like a scarecrow. The food at that place must really suck."

Ryan smiled weakly. "I'm good, thanks."

"We could make a cadet go get you a burger or something," Walter pointed out amusedly. "Anything you want."

"Really, I'm fine," Ryan insisted.

Any levity in the room suddenly flickered. They had all been so blinded by their happiness upon seeing Ryan again, they had barely looked at him, _really _looked. Now they did. Now they saw the haunted eyes, the pale skin, the thinner figure. It worried them to no end.

Ryan sensed the tension building up in the room. "So I know you didn't really bring me here to talk about the fire," he said quickly. "Did you need something from me?"

The team glanced around at each other, none of them wanting to be the one to break the news.

"We believe the case has gone as far as it can, Mr. Wolfe," Horatio said quietly. "Your assignment is being terminated."

Ryan stared at him disbelievingly. So what Jay had told him was true...

They were pulling the plug on him.

Natalia tentatively put a hand on his arm. "Look on the bright side," she said quietly. "You'll be home soon."

But Ryan didn't even seem to hear her. The anger was boiling over in his bloodstream, deafening him to all else. They all noticed his change in demeanor.

"There's nothing else you can do," Walter told him. "We're sorry, man, but the case is dead."

A million arguments raged inside Ryan's skull. "No!" he cried. "There's something going on there, I know it!"

Calleigh and Eric glanced at each other worriedly. "Ryan, there's nothing going on there," Calleigh insisted bracingly. "There is simply no evidence to suggest there is or ever was wrongdoing at Marble Tree."

"You're _wrong_!" Ryan barked.

The room was dead silent.

"Ryan, what's going on?" Walter demanded sharply, his voice tinged with fear.

"Nothing," Ryan spat frustratedly, getting up from his seat. "I should get back. I'm not done yet, I just need more time. I can figure out what's going on, I just need you to give me more time."

Everyone looked at Horatio. It was his lab, so it was his call.

Finally, the lieutenant sighed quietly and then said heavily, "I can get you three more days. Frank will drive you back."

"I will?" Frank muttered dryly.

Ryan nodded, turning to go. Just as he reached the door, he stopped then slowly looked back at them.

"Horatio... Eric...," he began quietly, his tone completely different from what it had been a minute ago. "When you were there last week... Did you happen to notice a black girl, about 23 years old, answers to the name Josseline?"

The brothers glanced at each other confusedly. Eric shook his head.

"Not that we remember offhand, Mr. Wolfe," Horatio replied.

Ryan offered no explanation or response. He simply walked out the door, Frank following behind him.

As soon as the door shut, everyone turned to face Horatio.

"How can you keep letting him do this to himself?" Walter demanded. "This assignment is _killing_ him!"

Horatio stared at the floor, his mouth a tight line.

"Did you see how _awful_ he looked?" Natalia asked timidly. "As if he hadn't eaten in days..."

"There's definitely something he's not telling us, H," Eric said. Calleigh nodded in agreement. They'd known Ryan the longest. They'd gotten fairly decent at interpreting his moods and facial expressions. "Something's really wrong with him."

Horatio had nothing to say in response to his team, mostly because he completely agreed with them. He wanted to end this nightmare and bring Ryan home just as much as, if not more than, the rest of them. But this was important to Ryan.

Horatio couldn't help but believe him when he said something else was going on at Marble Tree. If there was any chance for someone to figure it out, Ryan was that person. He more than deserved a shot at solving this twisted puzzle. And Horatio knew Ryan could hold on.

Just three more days.

* * *

**Author's Note: **After reading everyone's input, I'll go ahead and keep updating as often as possible. And the good news is I actually have quite a bit of time on my hands these days since I'm out of school and home for the holidays. Hurray! Things are getting really exciting! And reading my plotmap I was so surprised at how close some planned events suddenly are... hint hint :P


	33. The Necklace

**XXXII**

**The Necklace**

_And you can see my heart beating_

_Oh, you can see it through my chest_

_I'm terrified but I'm not leaving, no_

_Know that I must pass this test_

_So just pull the trigger._

- Rihanna, "Russian Roulette" -

* * *

Ryan fumed the whole way back. He sat in the back of Frank's car, a dead silence stretching between them, all the way to Marble Tree. As soon as the place came into view, a chill settled over Ryan, cooling his anger with another emotion.

Dread.

Frank drove very slowly up the front drive, heading for the main entrance.

"Ryan...," Frank said quietly. "If you don't want to go back... If you want to end this right here, I will turn around right now, no questions asked. Just say the word."

The offer tugged at Ryan's heart. He would be lying if he said he actually _wanted_ to be back.

"Personally, I'm tempted to not even give you a choice," Frank growled.

Ryan looked at his lap, thoroughly considering it. He wanted to get out of this place so bad, it physically hurt him. Even if he was crazy, there would be no way he'd get better here. He'd find another place, if necessary. Jay would help him.

But he couldn't leave. He knew that deep down. Not like this, not now.

Not until he learned the truth.

"Thanks, Tripp," Ryan replied, fighting to keep his voice strong. "But I need to finish this."

Frank looked at him through the rear-view mirror, but didn't say anything. He stopped the car in front of the entrance. Ryan didn't get out immediately, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stay in the car, drive away and never look back at this horrid place.

But he had work to do.

"Bye, Frank," Ryan said quietly, then got out of the car and walked resolutely toward the front door.

He didn't look back.

**::|+|::**

Ryan checked in with one of the nurses to let them know he was back safe and sound. More or less. She told him he had been given special permission to miss the group activities for the day. Dr. Fletcher wanted to give him a break, she said. He was free to do whatever he wanted until dinner.

Ryan had no desire to talk to anyone at that point, so he walked back to his room. Despite how much he'd slept the night before, he felt tired. He hoped a nap would help.

He closed his door and approached his bed. He froze.

Joey's necklace was lying on his bed.

Ryan's heart began thumping wildly, his eyes wide. He blinked hard a few times, rubbing his face with one hand, and looked again.

It was still there. An errant beam of sunlight reflected off the little silver box. He approached it as if it were a snake poised to strike, and gently picked it up to examine it.

It was definitely the necklace he'd seen Joey wearing for the past three weeks. The little prayer box at the end of it was exactly as he remembered, every pattern and whorl in the right place.

His mind ticked furiously, trying to quantify what this could mean. Dr. Fletcher had briefly explained to him that sometimes when a person had delusions such as an imaginary friend, they would do things and then forget, so they could think the friend did those things and they were real. For example, if the friend gave them a gift, it was actually something the person got for themselves, but their delusions convinced them the friend was really real. It was all very confusing.

So... If Joey was just a figment of Ryan's imagination, then this necklace had always belonged to Ryan... and now he'd planted it in his own room... to convince himself the illusion was real?

Ryan groaned in frustration, holding his head in his hands. None of this made sense!

Every conversation, everything he'd ever had when Joey was with him had felt real. Her story, her personality... there was no way he could have thought up something like that just as a defense mechanism against stress. It was all far too real.

He fiddled with the necklace between his fingers. He remembered when Joey had shown it to him. She had said it was supposed to ward off bad things, that she kept a prayer inside it that helped her be strong when she was scared.

Ryan popped open the tiny clasp on the box and opened it.

It was empty.

He sighed. He had somehow hoped to find the answer to all this inside the little box.

Ryan stood up and went to his dresser, sliding open the top shelf. Inside was the little pile of tea packets Joey had given him, along with a styrofoam cup he had yet to use. He poked around until he found the white packet she'd made herself out of blank paper. He carefully tore off a tiny piece and picked up the pen he'd stolen from the nurses' station one night.

Ryan wrote in the smallest lettering he could. He wasn't usually the praying kind, but at this point he'd take help from wherever he could get it. He didn't know exactly where the words were coming from as he wrote them, but he at least took comfort in knowing that they were exact representations of his heart.

Ryan finished writing and rolled the piece of paper as small as he could. Then he tucked it into the box and closed it. He fastened the delicate chain around his own neck and tucked the box underneath his t-shirt. The metal was pleasantly cool against his skin.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes closed, clenching and unclenching his fists.

He wasn't crazy. It wasn't all in his head. He refused to believe it.

Something terrible was happening here and he'd somehow managed to get sucked into it. He'd never been more sure of that than he was at that moment. He was going to find out what and stop it. He was going to take down whoever was responsible.

There was simply no other option.

* * *

**Author's Note: **You'll find out what he wrote later. Maybe. It's from a song, but that's all I'm telling you. Whether Ryan actually knows the song, I don't know, but I certainly like it ;P. I actually have a prayer box necklace that I got when I was a kid. I love it, they're very cute, and yes, I keep a little prayer on a piece of paper inside it. Hopefully this one gives our boy some strength. He's gonna need it... ;)

This chapter and especially the starting quote is dedicated to me. fergie, a fellow Rihanna fan whose stories I've been completely neglecting in order to finish my own. :P Stay awesome, girl!


	34. Transfers

**XXXIII**

**Transfers**

_Of course I'm crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong._

- Robert Anton Wilson -

* * *

The next day, Horatio called Jay to come to the lab one more time. He briefly explained what he could to her, leaving out what case details she wasn't privy to.

"So we want him out in no more than three days," Horatio finished. "We'll need you for that."

Jay nodded. "Right. I'll contact Marble Tree and tell them a spot in my hospital has opened up and I would like Ryan transferred back into my care. As his primary doctor, I pretty much have jurisdiction over his care. They won't argue."

"Thank you for all your help, Dr. Karishma," Horatio said. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

"No, I'm the one who should be thanking you," she replied. "This all started because you wanted to find out what happened to Mark as much as I did."

"I'm sorry we couldn't get you an answer," Horatio told her sorrowfully.

"Don't be sorry," she insisted, her eyes pained. "You tried. Ryan put himself in danger and misery trying. I am nothing but grateful. And I know Mark would be too."

**::|+|::**

Dr. Fletcher walked into Ryan's room just as Alice was getting his medication ready.

"I have news for you, Jordan," he said, his voice somber. "I just received a fax from Dade. Dr. Karishma has a spot available in her ward and would like to transfer you there in two days."

Ryan didn't answer. It was nothing he wasn't already aware of.

Dr. Fletcher looked at him closely as Alice handed Ryan his pills and some water. "You don't have to go if you don't want to, you know."

Ryan swallowed the pills and washed them down with water. After Alice had checked his mouth, he shook his head.

"I like Dr. Jayashi," he mumbled. "I'll go."

Dr. Fletcher didn't look happy for some reason. "They'll take good care of you there," he assured Ryan, standing up to follow Alice out. "I'll see to it that the transfer goes smoothly."

He stopped at the threshold, then turned to look at Ryan again. Something strange glinted in his eyes.

"We'll miss you, Jordan," he said. Then he disappeared.

Ryan stared at the doorway for a long time afterward, a shudder zipping up his spine. It wasn't what the doctor said, merely how he said it. His voice was so...

Creepy.

**::|+|::**

"Hey, Dr. Fletcher!"

Noah turned at the sound of his name. Matthew Price was walking toward him.

"What's up, Matthew? How's your mother doing?"

The young orderly had a worried look on his face. "She's much better. Thanks for giving me the past few days off, it really helped her to have me there."

"Family comes first, Matthew."

"I was wondering about Jordan West."

Dr. Fletcher frowned. "What about him?"

"Someone told me he had some kind of breakdown a couple days ago," Matt explained. "Is he okay? He's kind of a friend of mine, I guess."

"You know how I feel about the staff making friends with the patients," Dr. Fletcher reminded him sternly.

Matthew was bashful for a moment. "I know, I'm sorry. He's a nice guy, but he always seems so lonely. It just got to me, that's all. It won't happen again."

"Some patients get under our skin more than others," Dr. Fletcher said knowingly. "Mr. West is all right for now. He had a severe anxiety attack after learning something difficult about... a friend."

Matthew looked confused. "Friend? Who, Joey?"

Dr. Fletcher froze, something strange flashing in his eyes. "Joey?"

"That's what he calls her," Matthew explained. "Josseline LaCroix?"

"Miss LaCroix is no longer with us," Dr. Fletcher said stonily. "She was transferred to Mount Zion last week."

Matthew looked thoughtful. "That's weird. They never have inpatient openings... Did we find a family member of hers or something that got her in?"

Dr. Fletcher looked uncomfortable. "It's complicated. Look, Jordan was very upset when Josseline left. I think it would be best if you don't speak to him about her at all. Even if he brings her up, change the subject."

Matthew frowned, but nodded. "Sure, Doc. You got it."

Dr. Fletcher moved to walk away.

"Is it true Jordan's being transferred out in a couple days, too?" Matthew suddenly asked.

Noah stopped dead in his tracks. "Yes," he said, not meeting Matt's eyes. "I'm afraid Jordan will not be with us much longer, either."

* * *

**Author's Note: **OH. SNAP. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN? Find out tomorrow. HANG ON TO YOUR HATS! XD


	35. The Madness Within

**XXXIV**

**The Madness Within**

_I just know there's no escape now_

_Once it sets its eyes on you_

_But I won't run, have to stare it in the eye_

_Stand my ground, I won't give in_

_No more denying, I've got to face it_

_Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside_

_If I don't make it, someone else will stand my ground._

- Within Temptation, "Stand My Ground" -

* * *

Ryan couldn't look Mrs. Naughton in the eye at dinner.

It had been announced at group therapy that he would be leaving the next day. Even though she hadn't said anything, the look she had given Ryan had said more than enough. She looked so distraught and lost. Intense guilt had immediately sprung up in his gut.

There were only five minutes or so left of dinner before the patients would be herded back to their rooms for lights out. Mrs. Naughton wasn't touching her food. He was half-heartedly poking at his meatloaf and tater tots, but he neither wanted nor felt up to eating anything. The empty silence stretched on between them.

"I'm sorry," he finally said heavily.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes extra bright with unshed tears.

"I hate to leave you here," he continued softly. "I wish I could somehow take you with me. I wish I could even visit once in a while, but... I don't think that's going to be possible."

Mrs. Naughton looked thoughtful for a moment. "Absence from those we love is self from self... a deadly banishment."

Ryan's heart ached ferociously. He reached across the table to take her hand in his. "Everything's gonna be okay," he told her, even though the promise felt empty and dead even as it fell from his lips. "You're going to be okay. I'm... I'm so sorry."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Ryan held his head exhaustedly in his free hand, the one that was still bandaged up.

Then a tiny smile appeared on her lips. "Be not lost so poorly in your thoughts."

Ryan couldn't help but smile weakly, one quick chuckle escaping him. "You were always the one who I think understood me best. I wish I knew more Shakespeare for you."

Mrs. Naughton smiled wider, but didn't say anything. She patted his hand, her eyes sad despite the smile on her face.

The nurses and orderlies began overseeing the patients finishing their food and discarding their trays and utensils in the proper place.

Ryan felt more emotion than he'd felt in a long time well up inside him. His circumstance only just then seemed painfully apparent to him. He could be absolutely insane, he had survived this god-awful mission just to fail miserably, he felt awful, he felt guilty, he was tired...

He was miserable.

Tears of sheer emotional and physical exhaustion welled up in his eyes, but not a single one fell. Ryan rubbed and wiped his eyes with a shaky hand.

Mrs. Naughton noticed his distress. Her smile vanished.

"Now cracks a noble heart," she said softly, her voice and eyes full of loving sympathy.

She stood up to clear away her tray. Before she walked away, she turned to look back at him one more time.

"Goodnight, sweet prince," she whispered, so he could barely hear her. "And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

**::|+|::**

Ryan looked around the little room that had been his home for the past month. It felt so much longer than that.

He had nothing to pack. He'd come here with only the clothes on his back and that was how he intended to leave. With the exception of Joey's necklace, that is. He hadn't taken it off since the afternoon he'd found it on his bed.

Ryan looked around, disappointment throbbing in his heart. He couldn't believe this was how it would end. He'd been so sure he could find something to prove this place was not on the level. He couldn't remember a case when he'd ever _not _been able to find something. It killed him inside.

He could really use a drink.

Ryan suddenly remembered the small stash of tea in his dresser. He opened the drawer and stared at the packets within. With a wry smile, he picked up the white one Joey had made for him. Or he'd made for himself, if he was indeed nuts. He took the styrofoam cup out as well, carrying it to his bathroom and turning on the hot water. It took about a minute for it to warm up, and then he filled the cup with the steaming liquid.

He tore open the packet and took out the teabag, dropping it in the water. As it was soaking, he looked at the homemade packaging. The word ICE was written on it in pen, and it definitely wasn't his handwriting.

Ryan sighed. There was just too much to think about, too many possible explanations. The thing that bothered him the most was that he wasn't even all that scared, just confused. He'd dealt with plenty of psychopaths at work. Crazy people always thought they were perfectly sane, like they knew something everyone else could never understand. He even remembered feeling like that last year when he was under the influence of S.I.N. But now... now felt so different.

If he was aware of it, was confused by it... was he truly crazy?

His tea was ready. It wasn't as hot as he would have liked it, but it was pleasant to have something warm. He didn't even care how strange it tasted. He could tell Joey wasn't kidding when she'd said she'd combined a few different kinds of tea in one packet. She certainly seemed to think it was delicious. It was a little bitter for Ryan's taste, but he could hardly complain. He drank all of it.

Oddly enough, it did actually make him feel a little better, just as Joey had said it would. He tossed the empty cup and the soggy teabag into the wastebasket.

He wasn't going to the nurses' station tonight. He was finished.

Ryan kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, not even bothering to take his jeans off. It was odd to think that this time tomorrow, he would be home in his own bed. His house would probably need some serious dusting. Back when the assignment started, his teammates had apparently agreed to take turns checking on the place, making sure his car and all his belongings weren't stolen. But he hardly expected them to clean. And even if they did, their clean and his clean were two very different things. He probably had a lot of dusting, polishing, vacuuming and straightening-up to do.

With that oddly pleasant thought in his head, Ryan drifted off to sleep.

**::|+|::**

Something sharp bit into his shoulder.

Ryan's eyes shot open.

The shadows were back.

One of them clamped a gloved hand over his mouth before he could scream. At least four pairs of hands suddenly gripped him from all angles, restraining his hands and feet, as well as pushing down on his chest.

"Just a half dose should suffice this time," a man's sinister voice said. It sounded oddly familiar. "I think he should be awake for this."

The gloved hand wielding the syringe only pushed in half the liquid under his skin. Ryan screamed again, struggling mightily, but the hands all held him down and muffled his cries.

The drugs took effect quickly. His throat was paralyzed by sudden weakness. It was all Ryan could do to keep breathing, but crying out for help was now beyond his capabilities. His extremities all felt as if they were made of water.

"Let's go," the voice said.

Two of them dragged Ryan off the bed, draping his arms around their necks and supporting his limp body between them. Ryan's eyes rolled up in his head, his senses on overload. Light was oversaturated. Sound was unbearable. Static filled his brain.

He'd felt this way before.

_The nightmare..._

It hadn't been a dream at all.

They carried him down the hallway, his feet dragging along the floor as his head lolled from side to side. They went through the door, then painstakingly started down some stairs.

Ryan lost track of time, barely conscious. They were descending down, down, down... farther down than he even thought possible. He heard someone fumble with keys, and then a metal door creaked open. A rush of cold air blasted through him. He vaguely noticed concrete walls, maintenance pipes running along the walls and ceiling, the sound of dripping water.

Another door opened. He was lifted from the shoulders of the ones holding him up and he was laid on his back on a very cold, very hard surface that smelled of rust and formaldehyde.

A shot of terror brought him back to his senses slightly as he felt familiar thick, leather straps being fastened around his wrists and ankles.

A blindingly bright light snapped on overhead, paining his eyes.

"Welcome back, _Jordan_," the voice said beyond the light's reach. He said the name with disdain. It was followed by a hollow silence all around.

Ryan's tongue felt like it was ten times it's normal size, his throat inhumanly dry.

"W-where... am I?" he choked, his voice strangled.

"But don't you remember?" the voice sneered. There was a metallic sound and the shuffling of a few people moving around.

Ryan's thoughts were quickly becoming clearer, the drug wearing off. He did remember this place. At the time, he thought it had only been a nightmare.

If only.

The leader of the group, the only one to have spoken so far, stepped into the light. Now that he was coherent, Ryan could see that he was simply wearing some kind of mask, explaining why he could never clearly see faces. He reached up toward his face and pulled the mask off.

It was Dr. Fletcher.

White-hot fury exploded inside Ryan's chest. So this was the answer to all the riddles, all the mysteries. He cursed himself for not having figured it out sooner. Of course Fletcher was behind everything! He ran the place. Nothing happened within Marble Tree's walls without him knowing about it.

"You bastard!" Ryan bellowed. "What the hell have you done?"

Dr. Fletcher gave him a small smile. "What is necessary, I'm afraid. It has always been up to a few to do the most unpleasant things for the good of the world."

Ryan stared up at him, his blood boiling. "You've been experimenting on these people, haven't you?"

Dr. Fletcher looked grave. "It hasn't been enjoyable, I assure you. But sometimes we must do a little evil for a greater good."

"Coward!" Ryan spat, wrenching against the restraints. "Preying on defenseless people! You're nothing but a monster!"

Fletcher shook his head. "Perhaps. But these people have a higher calling. They will help us to find ways to save future patients. Their sacrifice will one day be honored, as will ours. Come, show yourselves."

The other people in the room slowly removed their own masks and stepped into the light so Ryan could see them. He recognized Alice, the nurse who had caught him faking his medication. The two orderlies who dragged him to his room after he went berserk looking for Joey. Dr. Murphy, a woman who worked on the third floor. Another doctor he'd seen around, but didn't know his name offhand.

"What do you want with me?" Ryan demanded.

"We get the feeling you haven't been completely honest with us, Jordan," Dr. Fletcher said, coming closer to the table. He leaned down closer over Ryan's face.

"We know you're a cop," he whispered savagely.

Ryan glared up at him. He knew there wasn't much point in denying that fact, but he wasn't about to surrender. Not yet.

"We've known since the night of the fire," Fletcher continued, answering the unspoken question in Ryan's eyes. "When you saved Ben... we knew you couldn't possibly just be a mere transient with some antisocial tendencies. So we looked into your background. Turns out Jordan West didn't exist before a month ago. We figured you must be here for other reasons, then."

Ryan continued eyeing Fletcher with the utmost hatred and disgust.

"If you cooperate and answer our questions, we won't have to hurt you."

A harsh laugh barked from Ryan's throat. "Give it your best shot," he snarled. "See if you can do any better than the Russians."

Fletcher hesitated, looking surprised, but then picked up a syringe from one of the trays standing nearby. "This is sodium thiopental," he told Ryan, approaching him again. Before Ryan could even shy away, he stuck him with it. "It should... loosen you up."

Ryan felt very floaty. His mind was drifting on clouds of purple and silver, everything at peace. His anger and fear lay forgotten on the ground far below.

"What is your _real_ name?" came a voice, echoing through the clouds.

Ryan's eyes rolled up in his head. He felt very relaxed. Surely there was no harm in telling the voice his name...

"R...Ry...an..."

"Ryan. Ryan what?"

Something clicked in the back of his mind. Thoughts, which inexplicably sounded like Walter's voice, thundered through his skull.

_Don't tell him! Fight it, Wolfe! _

"He's resisting it," a woman's hollow voice said.

The first voice, which Ryan suddenly remembered belonged to Fletcher, sighed. "Fine. If he doesn't want to do it the easy way, we're prepared to take other action."

The drug was quickly wearing off again, meant to be a fast-acting truth serum. Ryan slowly came back to himself.

He was beginning to feel very weird. Sweat was breaking out all over his body. A dull headache was mounting in his brain. Despite the adrenaline pumping through his blood, he felt weak. Pins and needles raced up and down all of his extremities. He wasn't terribly surprised: he felt as if they'd pumped him full of half a pharmacy already.

Dr. Murphy stuck an electrode on either side of Ryan's head.

"Do you know what electroshock therapy is?" Fletcher asked mildly, as if he were merely having a friendly conversation over coffee. "We send an electrical current into your brain to induce therapeutic seizures."

Ryan's heart started to pound even harder, but he kept his face straight and unafraid. Numbness was creeping over his entire body, but he ignored it.

"Of course, the patient is usually under anesthesia when we do this," Fletcher continued. "You won't be getting such pleasure. And the voltage we'll use won't be enough to knock you out, but it certainly won't feel good."

One of the orderlies wheeled a box-like machine closer to the table. Fletcher began fiddling with the dials. Ryan heard some sort of humming coming from the box.

"So, here's how this is going to work," Dr. Fletcher said, leaning over Ryan again. "You're going to tell us everything you've dug up in this little investigation you've been conducting under our noses. Do that and we'll simply give you some nice medicine to forget this whole thing and send you back to bed. Refuse... well, you can probably guess what'll happen then."

Ryan swallowed thickly. His voice was completely gone, even if he had wanted to speak.

Dr. Fletcher's face suddenly looked demonic.

"Very well."

He pushed a button.

It felt as if a molten bullet had been shot through his brain. The pain was too unbelievable to even scream. Then it was over as quickly as it began.

Ryan gasped for air, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" Dr. Fletcher said softly. "Your friend didn't like it much, either."

Ice blasted through Ryan's bloodstream.

"Oh, yes, Josseline is real," Dr. Fletcher whispered, noticing Ryan's expression. "As far as anyone outside this room knows, she was transferred to another hospital. But we couldn't risk her contacting you in some way. We disposed of her elsewhere. It took a lot of effort to get you believing she was just a figment of your imagination. Lucky for us, your only other friend doesn't speak in anything but Old English. She probably knew what was happening the whole time, but simply couldn't tell you. Unfortunately for her, that probably means we'll have to take care of her next..."

Ryan slammed his weight against the restraints, but only succeeded in feeling something pop in his shoulder. Tears welled up in his tortured eyes. If they so much as _touched _Mrs. Naughton...

"Your orderly friend is sniffing around too much, too," Dr. Fletcher said thoughtfully. "He's a little easier to get rid of, though. I'll just fire him. But then what money will he use to take care of his poor, sick mother and three little kids? It's all your fault, you know."

Fletcher pushed the button again.

Excrutiating pain exploded behind Ryan's eyes, everything momentarily going black. The back of his head smacked against the hard, metal table. Then it stopped. A dull ache in his mouth and a metallic taste told him he'd bitten his tongue. He numbly turned his head to the side and spat out blood and saliva.

"Fuck you," he whispered. He was so _tired_...

The pain came again. He forced his eyes to focus on the blinding light above him. Nausea roiled in his gut. He couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"You should really consider being more polite," Dr. Fletcher growled. "You're not in a good position, here. You've probably already done a fine job of implicating Ray Olsen in most of what _we've _done. Thanks for that, by the way. But we need to know for sure. _What do you know_?"

Ryan managed to force a wolfish grin onto his lips. "Not telling," he rasped.

Pain. It was getting worse and worse with every time the button was pushed. His vision was growing blurry, and it was getting harder to breathe.

"We are not afraid to kill you!" Dr. Fletcher snarled. "You're not the first one to stumble on our experiments. We took care of him, even convinced the cops it was a suicide!"

Ryan swallowed dryly. Fletcher's voice was becoming more distant by the second, but his words resounded heavily in Ryan's ears.

Mark Warren. So they _had _murdered him...

"Easy, Noah," Dr. Murphy said, her voice worried. "He looks a little cyanotic."

"Not yet!" Fletcher barked. "This is your last chance, Ryan, or whatever your name is. Tell us what you know."

Even if he'd wanted to, Ryan couldn't make himself do anything. He felt so strange... His vision was tunneling, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. Nausea, pain, shaking, headaches, weakness... Everything that could have possibly made it even worse was happening.

"Speak!" Fletcher roared. Then he pushed the button one more time.

The pain was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced before. He felt as if every cell in his body had been dunked in acid and set on fire. A roar filled his ears. Darkness swamped over his vision.

A tiny light suddenly sparked at the edge of the darkness. It grew bigger and bigger until everything was bathed in pure white.

Then everything was gone.

**::|+|::**

"Noah, stop!" Alice cried.

Ryan lay on the table, completely limp. Dr. Fletcher had held the button down longer than normal that time, causing Ryan to convulse sickeningly. But when he stopped...

Dr. Murphy rushed to the side of the table. She pulled the electrodes off Ryan's head and peeled back one of his eyelids.

"Pupils are fixed and dilated," she remarked, frowning. She bent down to listen for breathing and placed two fingers on his neck. She looked up at Noah, looking stricken.

"No breathing, no pulse!" she cried, becoming hysterical. "You killed him!"

Dr. Fletcher had a panicked look in his eyes. "That's not possible!" he insisted. "The voltage... it wasn't that high!"

"Oh, my God, you killed a cop!" Alice screamed.

"No!" he cried. He threw himself toward the table, pushing Dr. Murphy out of the way as he checked for signs of life.

There was no steady beat of life in Ryan's neck or wrist. No air moved in or out of his mouth or nose. His slightly parted lips were tinged blue. There wasn't a single reactive reflex still functioning anywhere in his body.

Ryan was dead.

"Oh, God," Fletcher whimpered. "Oh, God. He's dead!"

"No shit!" Dr. Murphy snarled at him.

"W-w-what do we d-d-do?" Alice stammered.

Dr. Fletcher stared transfixed at Ryan's lifeless body still strapped to the table. "We have to... get rid of the body," he mumbled, horrified. "Yes. Get rid of the body."

He looked at the two orderlies, who were watching with terrified looks on their faces. "Brent. Charlie. Take care of it."

"Why us?" Charlie protested. "_You're_ the one who killed him!"

"Just do it!" Dr. Fletcher screamed. "I don't care how or where, just get rid of the damn body!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes. Yes, I did.


	36. Found & Lost

**XXXV**

**Found & Lost**

_I know it was destined to go wrong_

_You were looking for the great escape _

_To chase your demons away_

_Oh, for so long I've tried to shield you from the world_

_Oh, you couldn't face the freedom on your own_

_And here I am left in silence_

_You gave up the fight, you left me behind_

_All that's done's forgiven_

_You'll always be mine, I know deep inside_

_All that's done's forgiven_

_I've been so lost since you've gone_

_Why not me before you?_

_Why did fate deceive me?_

_Everything turned out so wrong_

_Why did you leave me in silence?_

- Within Temptation, "Forgiven" -

* * *

_Beep._

Horatio opened one bleary blue eye. The bright red numbers on the digital clock perched on his nightstand read 4:37 a.m. He frowned. His alarm shouldn't be going off for another hour.

_Beep._

His cell phone was lit up. He reached for it in the darkness and then squinted at the painfully bright screen.

A small logo of a red triangle surrounded by blinking circles was flashing at the top of his screen. He'd never seen it before. Horatio went to his menu and selected the icon.

_Beep._

He sat up in bed, suddenly very awake.

It was the signal from the GPS tracker he'd implanted in Ryan's shoulder nearly a month ago. The alarm on it was beeping frantically.

Ryan was moving.

_Fast_.

Horatio threw aside the sheets as he practically leaped out of bed, hastening to pull on pants, a shirt and socks. His mind raced with worry. There was no logical reason for Ryan to have left Marble Tree before this afternoon, as they had all planned. Something bad must have happened. He must be in danger. Horatio could think of no other explanation for him to be fleeing so rapidly.

He snatched up his keys, gun and badge as he raced out the door. He didn't know where he was going yet, but the GPS had sent a map to his phone. All he had to do was follow it.

His boy needed him.

**::|+|::**

Horatio raced down the road in the pale grey dawn. Very few people were out at this time of morning. He saw a garbage crew going about their duties. Other than that, the city of Miami still slept.

The GPS tracker on his phone beeped steadily. The map it had created on his screen told him he was getting closer. Ryan's signal had stopped moving about five minutes ago. He was somewhere near the water.

Horatio pressed the gas pedal harder, making the engine roar. He just wanted to get to Ryan as soon as possible. He must be in trouble. There was simply no other explanation for him to be running away from Marble Tree like this. And judging by the speed with which he had been moving, he must have gotten his hands on a car somehow, and he knew Ryan would only resort to stealing one in the direst of circumstances. Horatio just prayed he wasn't hurt.

He was coming up on the beach now. This part of it was the less glamorous portion of Miami Beach, somewhere around ten miles from Marble Tree. The beaches were rocky, long jetties sticking out into the water at regular intervals. Horatio pulled off the road, rumbling along the rocky sand.

Ryan's signal was getting closer and closer, but Horatio didn't see any people or cars. He stopped the car and climbed out, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.

"Mr. Wolfe!" he called. His voice echoed back to him hollowly, carried along by the combination of wind and water. Silence was his only answer.

Horatio left his car to walk toward the water. The beach was very peaceful. The water was nearly still, the only waves tiny ripples at land's edge. The sky was pale, hues of golden orange beginning to creep slowly upward from the horizon. The sun itself probably wouldn't be up for another hour or so, though.

There was a jetty about thirty feet in front of him. Large black rocks were piled on top of each other, extending out into the water. The signal was coming from somewhere over there, Horatio realized worriedly.

"Ryan!" he called louder. "Where are you?"

Still no answer.

Horatio felt fear begin creeping into his heart. He picked up the pace, breaking out into a jog, dodging rocks and trying not to trip over them. He looked all around, but he didn't see any sign of anyone. He looked down at his phone. According to the tracker, Ryan was mere feet away from him.

"Ryan!" he yelled again, panic beginning to seep into his voice. "Can you hear me? Ry..."

Horatio froze.

There, right at the water's edge beneath him, a dark figure was slumped over the rocks. It wasn't moving.

Horatio practically threw himself toward the figure, slipping down the slick decline toward the water. He ignored the stinging of the rocks as their sharp edges sliced at him. He stopped next to the figure, which he now saw was a person.

Horatio reached out with shaking fingers and took hold of the back collar of the person's black t-shirt and pulled gently. The limp body fell toward him, and Horatio guided it carefully into his arms.

His heart stopped when he saw the face.

Ryan.

Horatio's breath hitched in his chest. He immediately began shaking Ryan, hitting his face, trying to get him to wake up.

"Ryan!" he cried. There was no response from the younger man. His skin felt so cold.

Horatio bent down close to listen for breathing and to check Ryan's pulse. There was neither to be found.

Horrified panic flared in Horatio's chest.

"No...," he whispered. "No, no, no, no, no..."

He hooked his arms underneath Ryan's and began dragging him up the rocky incline, aiming for sturdier, flatter ground. When he got there, he lay Ryan on the ground and hurried to check his vital signs again, hoping the noise of the water or the wind had merely drowned out the sounds of life.

But no matter what he tried or how he positioned himself, he couldn't find a pulse or signs of breathing in his young friend.

A painful lump rose in Horatio's throat, his breathing ragged and labored. His mind was racing with a million things. This couldn't be happening... There was no way this could be _true_...

Ryan's body was so cold. Lifeless.

"Don't do this, Ryan," Horatio pleaded. He desperately began doing compressions on Ryan's chest and breathing for him, but nothing changed.

Horatio's eyes prickled, but he was too shocked to cry. Disbelief racked his whole being. No matter how long he stared at Ryan's body, he couldn't wrap his mind around it. He didn't understand.

Horatio gently lifted Ryan off the ground and pulled him in close to his chest. At that moment, he would have given anything to feel Ryan's heart beating along with his.

But there was nothing but silence.

Ryan was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sheesh, I'm making myself cry here. Breaking my own heart. It doesn't exactly help when an epically emotional and beautiful Carrie Underwood song is playing in the background, either. Sometimes I think my imagination is far too vivid for even me to handle. I wish I could just play for you all what I'm watching in my head when I think up and write this stuff. More tomorrow, friends. You still sure you want me to keep going like this during Christmas? It's only gonna get worse... :'( And to answer Hobby-Writing's question, yes, I will be updating daily all through the holidays. I'll most likely post one chapter on Christmas Eve morning and then another before I go to bed since I'll probably be busy all day Christmas. But you'll still get a chapter a day, I promise!


	37. Homecoming

**XXXVI**

**Homecoming**

_The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost._

- Arthur Schopenhauer -

* * *

It took Horatio a while to come to his senses. He needed to call it in. He needed to protect the integrity of the crime scene.

He needed to get to work.

After he called it in to dispatch, Horatio made one more personal phone call and then knelt down beside Ryan's body, completely unwilling to do anything else. He just sat there, numbly gazing at his CSI's very still face. He half-expected Ryan to stir at any moment, yawn and ask him what he was doing on the ground. But deep down Horatio knew he was being naive.

When the first-responding patrol officers arrived, Horatio directed them to set up a yellow-tape perimeter.

A coroner's van was the next to arrive. A piece of Horatio's broken heart was relieved when Tom stepped out. It had been Tom who he'd called after dispatch, asking him to start work early and why.

Tom approached Horatio with a look of pure shock on his face, his footfalls slow and hesitant. Horatio said nothing when Tom reached them.

The M.E. sank to his knees in the sand next to Ryan's body. He shook his head slowly, disbelievingly. The young CSI he'd worked with, bickered with, laughed with for more than three years... come to this?

"Horatio...," Tom choked, his voice terribly shaky. "What... what happened?"

The redhead lieutenant's face was stonelike. "That's what I need your help finding out, Doctor," he answered quietly.

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting to stay professional. "I'll take care of him. You can count on that."

"I know you will," Horatio replied. "Thank you."

There were a few sorrowful moments of silence as Tom scanned Ryan's body up and down. Horatio watched like a stone guardian.

"I don't see any entrance wounds or blood," Tom remarked, clearing his throat. "Slight cyanosis of the lips, suggests he... struggled for air..."

He had to pause as he fought to tamp down on his emotions. He cleared his throat again and pushed on. "I see ligature marks on his wrists and ankles. He was restrained long enough before... death... for bruises t-to form..."

Horatio and Tom both stared at the ground, neither able to keep looking at Ryan.

Tom sniffed wetly. "Horatio...?"

The redhead looked up at the doctor. Tom's eyes were damp, but he was fighting to keep the tears from falling.

"We need to find out who did this," Tom told him, a razor edge to his grief-stricken voice. "Whoever did this... they need to pay."

Horatio nodded. "They'll pay. Rest assured, Doctor. They will pay."

**::|+|::**

Horatio went in the coroner van to the morgue, not leaving Ryan's side for one moment. He was like a watchdog over his fallen CSI, making damn sure that _no one_ so much as touched him ever again.

Now he stood in the cool hallway outside the autopsy room, his heart dreading what was about to happen. He didn't know how he was going to handle it. He didn't know what he could possibly say.

He heard a door open somewhere down the hall behind him. He heard the tapping and scuffing of multiple pairs of footsteps hurrying towards him. He didn't want to turn around when the footsteps all stopped right behind him. He didn't want to do this.

"H?"

He couldn't and shouldn't avoid them forever. Horatio turned slowly to face Calleigh, Frank, Eric, Walter and Natalia. He hadn't elaborated when he'd sent them an emergency text to meet him in the morgue. They all looked at him, worried expressions on all of their faces.

"Is something wrong?" Calleigh asked. The look on her boss's face frightened her more than anything. He looked so... lost.

Horatio took a deep breath. "It's Ryan," he said, his voice deathly quiet.

A chill settled over them all.

"He's getting out today," Walter said flatly. "Isn't he?"

Horatio looked down at the floor.

Fear seized all of them. Tears welled up in Natalia's eyes.

Horatio looked up at them, meeting each of their gazes.

"He's dead."

The two words fell on them like a sledgehammer. The chill of the morgue was nothing compared to the utterly cold devastation that settled into all of their hearts.

"_What_?" Walter cried numbly.

"Oh, God..." Natalia whispered, her entire body trembling.

"How?" Frank growled weakly.

"We don't know yet," Horatio explained heavily. "I found... I found him at Silver Rock Beach around 5 this morning. The graveyard shift is out processing the scene for us now. We don't have a cause of death yet."

Natalia covered her mouth with one hand, turned and ran from the group, her eyes streaming. Walter hesitated, then went after her, leaving Calleigh, Frank and Eric with Horatio.

Calleigh gripped Eric's hand like a lifeline. She fought back the tears that so desperately tried to fall.

Ryan... her little brother... who always seemed to find himself in the worst situations... but he still soldiered on...

Eric felt pain in his chest. It was as if his heart was actually breaking, not just metaphorically. The anger at whoever could have done this to their family was all but extinguished by the suffocating blanket of sorrow.

"Is he here?" Calleigh asked quietly.

Horatio nodded. "Take as long as you need."

Calleigh nodded gratefully. She took a step toward the autopsy room door, but then stopped. She instead walked up to Horatio and hugged him tight.

Horatio held her close, his heart aching ferociously. It was as if he could feel their shared devastation when they touched. That embrace was exactly what he needed at that moment.

Calleigh let go of him and then entered the autopsy room without looking back. Eric hesitated, looking at Horatio. They didn't need to say a word, knowing they both felt the same way. Eric followed Calleigh inside, leaving Frank alone with Horatio.

Tom was standing with his back to them. The table in front of him had a body on it that was covered with a sheet. He turned when he heard them come in. His usually jovial face was marred with sadness.

"I'll give you a minute," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

As he left, Calleigh and Eric slowly approached the table. They hesitated when they reached it, but then Calleigh reached out with one shaking hand and gently pulled the sheet back.

Ryan might have been sleeping. Reality washed over them sickeningly.

"Oh, Ryan," Calleigh whispered, reaching out a shaking hand to gently stroke his hair. He felt so cold to her touch.

Eric shook his head, putting a hand to his head to cover his burning eyes. Then he let it drop and he grabbed Calleigh's hand again.

Ever since Speed had died, Eric had made a point of avoiding getting too close with most of his colleagues. Calleigh and Horatio were the exception, of course. Everyone else he kept at some sort of distance, even Ryan. But the kid had been persistent, and Eric couldn't help but like him.

Were they best friends? Maybe not. But then again, brothers weren't always that way.

Eric placed his free hand on top of Ryan's arm. His friend's skin was pale and cold to the touch. No life pumped through his empty veins.

Calleigh and Eric stood there, hand in hand, in silence for a long time. Neither said a word. Neither knew what they possibly _could _say. Both wanted nothing more than to weep over their fallen friend, but they knew they had to be strong. Together.

Calleigh turned and buried her face in Eric's chest, tucking her head under his chin. He held her close, wrapping his muscled arms around her tightly. They both closed their eyes, enveloping each other in what warmth and comfort they could spare and preparing themselves for what would come next.

They couldn't save their friend.

But they sure as hell could hunt down his killer.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sigh. Sometimes I really don't like me. But don't worry. The team is out for revenge and so am I!


	38. If I Don't Make It

**XXXVII**

**If I Don't Make It**

_Beyond the door_

_There's peace, I'm sure_

_And I know there'll be no more_

_Tears in heaven._

- Eric Clapton, "Tears in Heaven" -

* * *

Natalia had to take a long, slow breath before she finally pushed open the door and stepped into the frigid morgue. No one was inside.

Just the body under the sheet.

Her whole body shook as she forced herself to take step after step toward the table, knowing who lay there. Tears quivered at the brink of spilling down her cheeks, her breath rattling in her chest.

She'd had a complete breakdown after Horatio had broken the news to the team. Walter had followed her, hugged her as she cried. Her mind could barely comprehend what was happening, and yet it was all it could focus on.

Ryan was dead. They didn't know how and they didn't know why. They just knew he was.

Natalia reached a shaky hand out and pulled the sheet back ever so slowly. Ryan's face was still and pale, as if it were made of marble. But at least he looked peaceful. No one had touched him yet for processing. He was still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans. He looked completely normal. No blood, no visible wounds. Just some bruises, but they certainly wouldn't have been life-threatening.

Natalia picked up one of his hands, gripping it in both of hers. His hand was wrapped up in some kind of bandage. She assumed it was from when he hurt it saving the other patient's life. Thick purple bruises extended all the way around both wrists. The marks were too wide for handcuffs, and they didn't look like rope either.

A single tear fell from her eye.

"Who did this to you?" she asked softly.

She placed one of her hands on his head, running a thumb idly through his hair. She sniffed wetly.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she whispered, the tears falling more freely. "You tried to tell us. You knew there was something else going on in that place. I'm so sorry we failed you."

She stood there for a long time, holding on to her friend's lifeless hand and weeping unabashedly.

After a while, she managed to somehow calm herself down. Then she noticed a small, silver chain around his neck, tucked underneath his shirt. She put his hand down gently and slid her fingers under the chain.

She'd never seen it before, but she knew what it was. Her grandmother had given her a prayer box necklace when she was a little girl.

"I never thought you were the praying type," she told Ryan quietly. She carefully undid the clasp and lifted it off him. She turned the necklace over in her palm.

Natalia hesitantly flicked open the tiny clasp with her fingernail. There was a little piece of rolled up paper inside. She almost didn't want to read it. Whatever it was, it must have been private. When she was young, she was told to only put the most desperate wish in her prayer box.

She gingerly unrolled the little piece of paper, taking care not to rip it. The words were tiny, definitely in Ryan's handwriting. What she saw there choked her up all over again. She put a hand over her mouth as she read.

_If I don't make it, someone else will._

Natalia looked down at her friend's face. His last wish, his final prayer... had been for someone to carry on his work if he could not.

She bent down until her lips were hovering right above his ear.

"Ryan...," she whispered, fighting to keep her voice strong. "Wherever you are, I want you to know... I'll finish it. I promise. I'll find out what happened to you, and I _will_ find out what's going on in that place. Even if I have to go undercover too. I won't stop until I find the answer and those responsible are locked up. I promise, Ryan."

She straightened, looking down at the necklace in her hand. She suddenly frowned.

There was some kind of powdery trace inside the box. She hadn't seen it until she'd pulled the paper out. She held it up to her eyes, squinting. It was crystalline, like salt or sugar. Maybe it was from wherever Ryan was murdered.

Natalia looked at Ryan again. "I should take this up to trace," she told him. "I'll be back later. I promise."

She pulled the sheet back over him and left the morgue, the necklace in her hand.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Don't worry. I'm sure whatever Natalia found inside the necklace has absolutely no importance whatsoever. ;) Who can figure it out first? Whoever gets it gets a special sneak peek of an upcoming chapter! But I also reserve the right to lie to you and say you got it wrong purely because I'm an evil little bugger who likes to lead you on as long as possible. Mwahahahaha.

Merry Christmas Eve! I'll put up tomorrow's chapter tonight, since I'll probably be busy. See you later! :D


	39. Blood Oath

**XXXVIII**

**Blood Oath**

_It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood._

- William Shakespeare, "Macbeth" -

* * *

Walter stared down numbly at his friend's body. There were no tears in his eyes. There was no tremor in his hands. There was no hitch in his breathing.

There was only blazing, burning, searing _fury_.

He didn't know who had taken Ryan away from him, but he knew he _hated _that person. Hate wasn't even a strong enough word. Walter wouldn't rest until he hunted Ryan's killer down and tore him limb from limb.

Walter didn't really understand why, but the anger he was feeling now was different from what he'd felt when Jesse was killed, what felt like an eternity ago. They had all been the killer's target back then. The halon gas didn't discriminate, Jesse was just unlucky. Not that it had made Walter feel much better about the whole thing, but at least he could convince himself that there was nothing he could have done to save Jesse.

No matter what he told himself, he couldn't say the same for Ryan.

He should have done _something_. He should have convinced Ryan to not take the assignment. He should have done whatever it took to keep him away from that place. Handcuff him to a flagpole, sit on him, lock him up, _anything_!

But Walter had failed.

Ryan had probably gotten desperate near the end. The powers that be had decided it was time to end his assignment. They had been stupid to think Wolfe would just go along with it like a good little dog. He'd probably finally found something, and that was what had gotten him killed. His team should have fought harder for him, gotten him more time so he could have continued his investigation _safely_!

A black mark on Ryan's left upper arm caught Walter's eye. He slowly nudged Ryan's t-shirt sleeve aside, revealing a black-ink tattoo. It looked like some kind of jester riding a giant wasp, with little stars surrounding it.

Walter had seen Ryan's tattoo before, or at least flashes of it. But he never got around to asking Ryan what it meant, when he got it or why. Now he would never know.

It was the little things like that that hurt the most.

"I'll find out who did this, Ryan," Walter growled. "I swear on my life. This bastard is not going to get away."

Walter sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

He'd been so mad at Ryan for taking on this stupid mission. He couldn't believe Ryan was actually going to risk his sanity... his _life_... like that. For what? To solve one murder? It seemed so pointless.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," he said bitterly. "I'm sorry I was ever angry at you for doing what you thought was right."

Walter stood in silence for a few moments, the rest of his thoughts and feelings not needing to be said.

When he was ready, Walter left Ryan's side and turned to leave. When he got to the door, he suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Tell Jesse I say hey, man," he said quietly. Then he left.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Jonathan really has a tattoo like that. You can see it sometimes on CSIM but he keeps it covered up most of the time with those studly suits. ;) Oh yeah, one more thing...

_**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**_ :D


	40. Grief

**XXXIX**

**Grief**

_And I know you're shining down on me from heaven_

_Like so many friends we've lost along the way_

_And I know eventually we'll be together one sweet day._

- Boyz II Men, "One Sweet Day" -

* * *

Alexx practically ran from her car to the M.E. building. Instead of going around the main entrance, she made right for the back door where they usually unloaded and brought in the bodies. She burst through the double doors and began hurrying down the hallway as fast as she could, her footsteps echoing hollowly on the hard floor.

Horatio stepped out of the autopsy room about twenty feet in front of her.

"Alexx...," he began, but he wasn't given the opportunity to elaborate.

Alexx marched right up to him, getting in his face with a look of pure rage on her own.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fury. "Where is he? What happened?"

Horatio was shocked by her tone, though he couldn't really blame her. He could see her eyes were red from crying and there were still tears to be shed.

"He's being prepped for the post," Horatio said quietly.

If possible, she looked even more livid. "You know full well that's _not _what I'm talking about."

He stared at her, at a loss for words.

"Why wasn't he brought to the ER?" Alexx barked. "Why wasn't he brought to me?"

Horatio looked at the floor, his heart breaking inside his chest.

Alexx's resolve was starting to crack. Her chin quivered and the tears were welling up again.

"Horatio Caine," she said shakily, deathly quiet. "You tell me right now why that boy was not rushed to the hospital the _second_ you found him."

Horatio met her gaze, his blue eyes betraying deep pain. "Alexx...," he said quietly. "He was gone long before I got there."

A tear trailed down her cheek. "We could have tried," she insisted.

Horatio shook his head. "There was nothing you could have done."

Alexx took a step closer to him. "You could have let me _try_," she sobbed, giving in to the torment inside her heart.

Horatio pulled her in close to his chest and held her tight as she cried into his shirt, holding onto him for all she was worth. They stood there holding each other for what felt like an unbearable eternity.

Alexx finally calmed herself down. She pulled away from Horatio's hold, idly brushing at his shirt where it was damp from her tears. She cleared her throat.

"Have you contacted his family yet?" she asked quietly.

"His parents weren't home," he said heavily. "Neither was his uncle here in Miami. I spoke to his niece. She knows to have her parents call me when they get back from work."

"Okay." She hesitated for a moment. "I want to assist on the autopsy."

To her relief, he gave her a small smile. "I would personally appreciate that. Knowing you were there would help."

**::|+|::**

Natalia watched as Travers worked on processing the trace she'd found inside the necklace. The whole lab was as if submerged in water, time moving at light speed and yet not at all. Horatio had announced to everyone that Ryan had been found murdered, but information was scant at the moment. He promised to keep everyone updated as the case progressed, and in the meantime urged everyone to do their work as diligently as usual. Department psychiatrists were standing by for anyone in need.

Travers had known Ryan pretty well, seeing as they were both trace guys. The look on the tech's face was one of shock mingled with confusion and sadness. He had barely spoken a word to Natalia since she'd brought the necklace up to him.

She knew her eyes were still red and blotchy despite her frequent trips to the ladies' room to collect herself and wash her face. The computer was running the sample now. She and Travers merely sat across the table from each other, waiting in silence.

"How are you holding up?" she asked quietly.

Travers shook his head. "I just... don't understand how this happened...," he said quietly.

Natalia nodded in understanding, but said nothing else.

They waited for a long time. Finally the machine beeped and a piece of paper slowly rolled out of the printer.

Travers sighed heavily and took the paper in his hands. As he read, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He finally handed the paper to Natalia with a frown.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked confusedly.

Natalia took the sheet from him and read. The substance was rare. It took her a moment to decode what she was looking at.

And then she remembered what it was.

Natalia's jaw dropped. She looked up at Travers with wide eyes. And then without another word to him, she turned and sprinted out of the lab.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hmmm... :)


	41. The Autopsy

**XL**

**The Autopsy**

_I know your life on earth was troubled_

_And only you could know the pain_

_You weren't afraid to face the Devil_

_You were no stranger to the rain_

_Go rest high on that mountain_

_Son, your work on earth is done._

- Vince Gill, "Go Rest High On That Mountain" -

* * *

Ryan's body was prepped. The instruments were all laid out on the tray. The recording device was on and running. Both doctors were ready.

And yet Tom and Alexx were both still reluctant to start.

They stood in silence, looking at Ryan's peaceful face. It hurt them both to even think about cutting him open, but they knew it had to be done. It was what would give them the first clues toward catching the bastards who did this.

Tom took a breath. "Here we go," he said. "Case file 11310-B18. Ryan Wolfe. Dr. Tom Loman performing the autopsy assisted by Dr. Alexx Woods."

Alexx listened as Tom recited the necessary case information for the recording, remembering the days when she used to do the same.

"Preliminary findings," Tom continued. "Ante mortem ligature marks around the wrists and ankles. Cyanosis of the lips, which would indicate difficulty breathing before death, but no signs of strangulation or smothering are apparent. Abrasion on the surface of the tongue, probably from biting, possibly indicating either seizure or blow to the head. Nearly healed lacerations on the left hand, cause already determined, but no signs of infection. No blunt or sharp force trauma. No entrance wounds of any kind. No visible burns, lacerations or bruising besides what was already mentioned. Probable body dump, though no double lividity is present. Victim..."

The word made Tom pause for a second, but he quickly shook himself and pushed onward.

"Victim was found outside near water, which could manipulate body temperature, so liver temp was not taken. Time of death unknown. Cause of death unknown. Body was processed for forensic evidence. No trace evidence was found. Blood samples were sent out for a tox screen. No DNA was found under the fingernails or in the mouth, indicating he either did not or could not fight back."

Alexx lifted her gaze to the ceiling, taking deep breaths as she willed the tears in her eyes to dry up.

"Dr. Woods," he said quietly.

She looked at him.

"Are you ready for me to make the Y-incision?"

Alexx swallowed thickly, then nodded. "Yes," she said loudly.

Tom nodded, then picked up the scalpel from the tray next to him. He positioned the blade under Ryan's collarbone. He took a deep breath, then slowly pushed the knife in and dragged it downward.

He'd only cut about two inches when a thick ribbon of dark red blood leaked out sluggishly. He paused the incision.

"We've got an uncommon amount of oozing here," Tom said. "This could indicate a possible blood toxin. Dr. Woods, if you would sponge, please."

Alexx obediently wiped the blood from the incision so Tom could see what he was doing. He bent down to continue cutting. But Alexx wasn't watching him.

She was staring at the blood on the sponge. It looked... wrong. Almost...

"Dr. Loman," she suddenly said sharply.

Tom looked up just as he was about to continue the incision.

Alexx was staring into space, completely lost in the deepest of thought, her brow furrowed. The sponge was still in her hand.

"Dr. Woods?" he asked.

Realization suddenly dawned on Alexx's face. But then it was replaced by a look of horror.

"Where's the epinephrine?" she demanded suddenly.

Tom was taken aback. "The epi? It's over in that drawer, why?"

Alexx didn't answer as she practically sprinted to the drawer Tom had pointed to and began rummaging through it like a mad woman.

Tom watched her, utterly bewildered. "What is it?" he asked. "What's going on?"

Alexx still ignored him. She dug a bottle of the drug she needed and set about scrambling for a syringe. She found one and half-filled it with the epinephrine.

"What are you doing?" Tom called over to her.

Alexx ran back over to the table with the syringe in her hand. With her other hand, she began hurriedly poking around Ryan's ribs.

Tom suddenly realized what she was doing. He watched her horrifiedly. "Wait!" he cried, but he was too late.

Alexx stabbed the syringe straight into Ryan's heart.

A horrible, high-pitched rasping exploded from Ryan's mouth as his eyes shot open wide. His whole body began shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. He hacked and gasped for air.

Alexx and Tom both yelled in shock, instinctively jumping back from the table. Alexx recovered first, throwing herself back at the table and grabbing Ryan's head.

"Easy, Ryan!" she cried, her heart buzzing dizzily. "You're okay, baby, just breathe!"

Ryan stared at her as he kept shaking and gasping for air. Tom was watching what was happening with a completely shocked look on his face.

Ryan's eyes rolled up in his head and then closed all the way. His body slowly quieted its trembling, his bare chest heaving desperately, starved for oxygen.

"Ryan?" Alexx said loudly, stroking and patting his face. "Can you hear me?"

He was out cold, his body taking control for him, forcing him to urgently keep drinking in more and more air.

Alexx and Tom traded numbly stupefied looks. Tom was completely rooted to the spot, open-mouthed, staring at Ryan with a mixture of fright and total bewilderment.

"Wha... What... just happened?" Tom stuttered.

Alexx had no answer for him.

"A...Al...ex...x...?"

She looked down at Ryan, her hands still holding his face. His eyes were still closed, his cracked lips parted.

"I'm here, Ryan," she said quietly, tears of joy welling up in her eyes.

Ryan gasped in a wheezy breath, but he couldn't say anything more. He seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness.

"Just rest, baby," she murmured soothingly. "You're okay now. You're back with us."

* * *

**Author's Note: **OH. SNAP. Rofl I know, I know. I'm full of it. I couldn't do it. Some of you saw right through me, but I had a lot of you going, didn't I? Admit it! Mwahahaha! :P


	42. Awakening

**XLI**

**Awakening**

_I can't wake up_

_Wake me up inside_

_Save me_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Wake me up_

_Bid my blood to run_

_I can't wake up_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me._

- Evanescence, "Bring Me To Life" -

* * *

Natalia was running faster than she ever had in her life, even faster than when she played varsity basketball in school. She'd discarded her shoes – Why the _hell_ did she wear heels to work, anyway? – somewhere near the reception desk of the lab and had proceeded to leap down the stairs three at a time. She finally made it downstairs and outside, the trace results clenched in her sweaty hand.

Her bare feet pounded numbly down the concrete sidewalk, over the grass, onto the cool tile floor of the M.E. building. They made echoey slapping sounds as she ran flat-out toward the autopsy room. She burst through the doors.

She froze.

Four pairs of eyes looked up at her. Horatio was there, standing near one of the empty autopsy tables. About five feet away, Alexx and Tom were kneeling down close to the ground, along the wall with all the storage slabs for the bodies.

Sitting against the wall, dressed in blue M.E. scrubs, was Ryan.

Natalia seemed to forget how to breathe. She stood there staring at Ryan with wide eyes. The resounding silence in the room was palpable.

Natalia took a hesitant step forward, then another, then another, never taking her eyes off Ryan. Then she ran forward, dropped the paper she was holding, threw herself to the ground next to him and flung her arms around his neck.

Ryan didn't care how sore he was or how utterly horrendous he was physically feeling at the moment. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, breathing in her familiar scent.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him that slightly awkward position, rocking slowly back and forth, her cheek buried in his neck.

The morgue doors opened again to admit Calleigh, Frank, Eric and Walter. They'd been summoned by Horatio, a text that Natalia had ignored during her race to the autopsy room. Now the four of them stared at the scene before them. All were at an utter loss for words.

Natalia finally let go of Ryan, but she grabbed onto his hand as if she intended to never let him go again.

Calleigh, Walter, Frank and Eric approached the rest of the group, all of them visibly shocked and overjoyed all at once to see their friend inexplicably alive let alone apparently okay.

Ryan looked around at them all, feeling a little overwhelmed by the raging emotions inside his heart. He was incredibly dizzy and nauseous. After they initially woke him up, Alexx and Tom had set to work stabilizing him and bringing his heart rate and breathing back to normal, at which point he'd regained some semblance of consciousness.

By then they'd called Horatio. Ryan didn't think he'd ever seen a more potent mixture of emotion on his boss's face. They'd found him extra scrubs to wear, since his clothes had been taken away for processing. Ryan still felt like utter crap, but with every passing minute he was feeling stronger and more coherent.

He couldn't help but continuously replay in his head the bizarre events that had led him to this place. In less than 12 hours, he'd thought he was insane, had been drugged, dragged out of bed, tortured, murdered, dumped, found and very nearly autopsied.

It was a lot to take in.

"How did you know he was still alive?" Natalia asked, her voice thick.

"It was all Dr. Woods," Tom said fervently.

"We were making the Y-incision," Alexx explained. "There was what we thought was oozing at the site, so I cleaned it up before we proceeded. But the blood... something was wrong about it. It wasn't coagulated enough. It just looked a little thicker than normal, but otherwise still alive and flowing. So..."

"So she administered a dose of intracardiac epinephrine," Tom finished excitedly. "I thought she'd gone nuts. But then he woke up and here we are."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why Ryan was dead in the first place," Eric pointed out.

They all looked at Ryan, not wanting to press him in his current state. He looked terrible, not that anyone could blame him. His eyes were deeply shadowed, his skin still very pale. Barely visible beneath his scrubs on his chest was a patch of white gauze, a line of lightly stained red running across the middle of it, from when they began to cut him open. His eyes were out of focus as he remembered what had happened to him.

His voice came out barely more than a whispery rasp. "It was the Marble Tree employees the whole time," he began slowly, just speaking a heavy task. He sounded winded. "A group of doctors, orderlies, and a nurse. Six in all. They're experimenting on the patients. They killed Mark Warren and staged his suicide after he found out about them."

Ryan closed his eyes and exhaustedly leaned his head back against the cool metal wall. "They figured out I was a cop," he continued heavily. "They... they drugged me. Tried to get me to tell them what I'd found during my investigation. But then... I don't know. I woke up here."

Alexx frowned. "How did you escape?" she asked him.

Ryan looked at her with a lost expression on his face. "I didn't," he said quietly. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"I think Natalia brought us the answer to that," Horatio said quietly. Everyone looked at him. He was reading the paper Natalia had dropped.

Natalia looked at Ryan. "I found some crystalline trace inside the necklace you were wearing. Travers found out it was your old friend tetrodotoxin."

He looked back at her blankly. "Tetrodotoxin... Blowfish poison? Where the hell did that come from?"

"I assumed you'd taken it to fake your own death and get out of there," Natalia replied, her brow knit in confusion.

"No, I haven't been near that stuff since that case six years ago," he insisted. "And you found it... inside the... necklace?"

His eyes shifted as his voice trailed off and he thought hard for a moment.

"There's no way...," he whispered.

"What?" Eric asked.

"The necklace belonged to a friend...," Ryan said slowly, his voice distant. "I remember now she said her family was into voodoo... She could have known about tetrodoxin and its uses... But she's been gone for days, there's no way she could have dosed me with it..."

"The effects of the poison can sometimes be delayed up to six hours," Calleigh said. "Does that help?"

Ryan's eyes suddenly squeezed closed and he put a hand to his head, realization swamping over him. "Oh, God...," he whispered.

"What, Ryan?" Natalia pressed urgently, worried.

He looked at her, horrified realization burning in his hazel eyes. "The tea," he said quietly. "She put it in the tea. It wasn't sugar, it was the poison. I knew it tasted too bitter for what she said it was."

"Your _friend_ tried to kill you?" Frank asked sourly.

Ryan shook his head slowly. "No... No, she did it to save me. She must have known they were coming after me," he said breathlessly. "They took her away a few days ago, I don't know where. They used her to get to me."

Burning rage filled Ryan's heart. Those _monsters_... Kidnapping, torturing a sweet girl like Joey... all to protect their twisted experimentation.

The morgue was ringingly silent.

"What do you want to do now?" Horatio asked quietly.

Ryan looked up at him from the ground. His eyes sparked with dangerous lightning, his face hardened.

"I want to tear that place apart," Ryan growled, like a true wolf.

"You _should _be going to the hospital," Alexx muttered sulkily, but she didn't push the matter.

"You may want to put some real-people clothes on, then," Eric pointed out drily.

An electric buzz seemed to fill the air of the frosty morgue. They all looked around each other, the rush of the hunt slowly building in everyone's veins. There were criminals to be brought down. Their blood quickened, boiling with the excitement of a chase about to be fulfilled.

"And you're going to need these," Horatio said quietly.

He walked forward to kneel down in front of Ryan. He held out his hand.

Ryan's gun and badge.

Now _that_ was a sight for sore hazel eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note: **OMG it is SO going down lol. Kudos to all you folks who figured out it was something in the tea and Ryan wasn't really dead! Some of you even knew it was blowfish poison! I don't know if all of you actually believed it or were just hoping, but either way, good on you! :D


	43. Return to Marble Tree

**XLII**

**Return to Marble Tree**

_He's mad that trusts the tameness of a wolf._

- William Shakespeare, "King Lear" -

* * *

Ryan rode in the passenger's seat of Horatio's Hummer, leading the cavalry charge of two Hummers and four patrol cars. All had their lights and sirens going full blast, sounding like the thundering revenge of heaven itself. They sped toward Miami Beach, parting and stopping traffic as they went.

Horatio glanced at Ryan. The younger man had an iron look on his face as he glared straight ahead. Ryan's hands were balled into fists in his lap, his knuckles white. His face was pale, his eyes deeply shadowed. He was like a vengeful spirit that had been forcibly torn from hell and spat back into the living world.

He looked absolutely frightening.

Horatio returned his gaze to the road. There was nothing he could say that would help Ryan at this point. Horatio could only stand by him as he faced his nightmare, and make damn certain that Ryan was the one left standing when the smoke cleared.

**:|+|::**

Ryan felt a deep ache in the pit of his stomach as soon as Marble Tree came into view. It was the last place he ever wanted to be. Ever. And yet he knew there was no way to avoid it. No way in hell was he going to stand back and let his team have the satisfaction of cracking this without him. This was his case, his mission, his collar.

Ryan took a deep breath before following Horatio out of the Hummer. The lieutenant led the way up the front stairs, followed by the eight patrol officers and his entire team of CSIs. Calleigh, Walter and Natalia had all point-blank refused to stay behind, so they had all piled into one Hummer behind Ryan and Horatio. Frank and Eric followed in Tripp's own car. It was quite the force for this kind of operation, but none of them could bear to be left behind when this nightmare was finally brought to an end.

The young woman at the front desk stared at the large group of police officers, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Horatio looked at her as he led the group to the stairwell.

"Excuse us, miss," he said cordially. "We have an appointment on the fourth floor."

She could do nothing but stare at them until they had one by one disappeared through the door.

Ryan stuck to the rear of the contingent, feeling as if there were weights tied to his feet. As the group filed through the door to the fourth floor lobby, Ryan stopped. Walter and Calleigh, also in the back with him, noticed his hesitation. They glanced at each other, then turned to face him, the only ones left in the stairwell.

They heard Horatio's voice on the other side of the door.

"This is your party, Wolfe," Walter said. "Ain't you comin'?"

A humorless grin flashed on Ryan's face.

Calleigh put a warm hand on his shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "C'mon," she said quietly. "You've got us with you this time. They can't touch you."

Her words acted like a shield, rejuvenating his resolve. He took a breath, then walked through the door, his friends close behind.

The wall of police officers in front of him was certainly intimidating. He tucked himself in the back of the throng, listening but not watching what was going on ahead of him.

Suddenly an all-too familiar voice rang out above them all.

"What the _hell _is going on here?" Dr. Fletcher's voice screamed.

At first no one answered him, then another familiar voice, a woman's harsh croak, sounded far across the room.

"Hell is empty...," Mrs. Naughton answered wickedly. "And all the devils are here!"

She cackled evilly, the sound sending a bizarre chill pulsating through the room, but it didn't scare Ryan. He couldn't help but smile. Mrs. Naughton always had a way of perfectly explaining the situation, if people took the time to understand her.

Dr. Fletcher seemed to ignore her. Ryan was still keeping himself hidden in the back.

"How _dare_ you show up here like this?" Fletcher snarled, Ryan assumed to Horatio. "You're upsetting my patients!"

"They're not your patients anymore, Dr. Fletcher," Horatio said mildly. "You're under arrest."

There was moment of profound silence.

"So is Dr. Lisa Murphy, Charles Lowell, Brent Davis, Dr. Frederick Whitaker and Alice Robertson," Horatio continued calmly. "Murder. Kidnapping. Assault. Battery. And that... is just for starters. I suspect the civil charges will be even more diverse."

Ryan began gently nudging his way through the crowd of police officers.

"Not to mention the attempted murder of a police officer," Frank snarled acidly.

Ryan could practically feel Dr. Fletcher's terror suddenly spike as he came up behind Eric. "Attemp... _what_?"

Ryan stepped out from behind his friends, glaring at Dr. Fletcher with as much hate and contempt as he could muster in his smoldering hazel eyes.

At the sight of him, Dr. Fletcher went white as a sheet and took a step back. His mouth flailed up and down, but no sound came out. In other circumstances, Ryan might have been able to find some humor in the doctor's behavior.

Something clattered noisily to the floor somewhere to his right. Everyone but Fletcher, who couldn't take his eyes off Ryan, glanced in the direction of the noise. Alice was standing near the nurses' station, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. The tray she had dropped lay forgotten on the floor.

Ryan took a few steps toward Dr. Fletcher, feeling the heat of his own anger radiating off his skin. Dr. Fletcher at first began to stumble backwards away from him, but was soon stopped by one of the partitions separating the lobby from the rec room.

Ryan stared into the eyes of the man who had been the source of all his misery for the last month. He'd played with his mind like a toy, like an experiment just for fun. He'd drugged him, tortured him, threatened his friends and took Joey away.

It was taking every last ounce of Ryan's self-control to not end him right then and there.

"Weren't expecting to see me again, were you?" Ryan asked, his voice a deadly whisper.

"H-h-h-ow?" Dr. Fletcher stammered.

Ryan didn't quite feel like giving him the answer. He just smirked wickedly, his lip curling like an enraged wolf baring its teeth just before the kill.

Fletcher gulped.

Ryan's grin suddenly disappeared. This man... no, he didn't even deserve to be called that. This _worm_. Spineless, pathetic, gutless... Icy fury flooded through his veins, making him even angrier than before.

He suddenly grabbed Dr. Fletcher by the lapels of his lab coat and slammed him into the wall behind him.

"Easy, Wolfe...," Eric muttered, but nobody made any move to intervene.

"Where's Josseline?" Ryan snarled.

Dr. Fletcher just stared at him.

Ryan slammed him into the wall again. Fletcher hissed in pain.

"_Where's Josseline_?" Ryan repeated, his voice even more venomous.

Dr. Fletcher swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak.

Ryan leaned in dangerously close to Fletcher's face, practically nose to nose with the man.

"Be very careful," he whispered. "If you lie to me..."

He didn't need to finish the threat.

Something flashed in Fletcher's eyes.

"She's dead," he whispered savagely.

Ryan punched him _hard_ in the mouth, not caring when the nearly healed cuts on his left hand reopened. Fletcher put a hand to his bleeding lip, beginning to tremble in fear. A few of the patrol cops took a step forward in protest, as if thinking to stop this, but they were motioned to stand down by Horatio and the CSIs.

"You are _so_ lucky you're lying to me," Ryan growled. "Don't. Do it. Again."

Dr. Fletcher took his shaking hand away from his mouth. He glared at Ryan. "I'm not saying another word without a lawyer."

For one fleeting moment, every single person there, even Ryan himself, thought he was going to strangle Fletcher with his bare hands. Instead, Ryan spun Fletcher around forcefully, slamming his front side back into the wall and wrenching his arms behind them. He slapped on a pair of handcuffs, then shoved the doctor toward the cops. One of the patrol officers stepped forward to grab him before he either fell or tried to get away.

The officers began spreading out to take the other perpetrators into custoday. No one fought back. A pair of officers went downstairs to collect Dr. Murphy. Alice was sobbing hysterically as she was led away.

Ryan didn't know what else to do besides lean his head heavily against the wall and close his eyes, fighting to get his temper back under control.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Josseline's your friend that's missing?" Eric's voice asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ryan answered tiredly. "She's just a kid, Delko."

His friend was understanding. "We'll find her, Wolfe."

Ryan stepped away from the wall. Eric took his hand away, watching his friend. The other CSIs and Frank approached him cautiously.

"She has to be here," Ryan said finally.

"Okay...," Natalia said. "Well, you know this place better than any of us, Ryan. Is there anywhere they could keep someone locked up?"

Ryan looked around at them all with pain-filled eyes. The he started heavily walking toward the stairs. They all followed him, giving him plenty of space.

Ryan took the path down, down, down. Down past the cafetera floor. Down past the main lobby on the first floor. Down to the door through which Ryan had been dragged the night before.

He grasped the handle and pushed. It gave a little, but was locked. Ryan kicked it with all his might. It exploded open. He continued down the maintenance hallway.

Ryan stopped in front of another door. His hand, and only his hand, began to shake ever so slightly.

"This is the place," he said quietly to his teammates gathered behind him. "This is where they brought me."

But he didn't go inside. He instead looked up and down the hallway, obviously searching for something. What, though, he had no idea.

Suddenly he saw it. Another door, about fifty feet further. He ran to it.

He pulled on the handle. It was locked too. He kicked it, just as he had kicked the other door. It creaked ominously, but stayed intact.

He kicked it again. And again. Desperation was beginning to seep into his heart.

"Here, man, let me help."

Walter came up beside him, positioning himself next to Ryan.

"On three," Ryan said quietly.

He counted. They kicked. The door blasted open.

The room was dark. It took a moment for Ryan to discern the shape on the floor in the far corner.

"Joey!" he cried, throwing himself into the room.

He ran to her, picked her up in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her face still. He found a pulse and heard her breathing, barely, but she was otherwise unresponsive.

"Joey?" Ryan asked, his heart pounding. "Can you hear me?"

There was no reply. He heard one of his teammates use their phone to call for an ambulance.

He could only stare at his friend's limp form in his arms. She looked emaciated, her skin dry and seemingly poor-fitting. Her lips were dry and cracked, her breathing ragged. In the days since she'd been taken, had they even given her food or water?

"...Joey?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow that was a long one :P More soon!

OMG. I just saw the promo for Match Made in Hell! SOOOO EXCITED!


	44. Hero

**XLIII**

**Hero**

_The noir hero is a knight in blood-caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time._

- Frank Miller -

* * *

Ryan ambled through Dade General slowly, a warm styrofoam cup in his right hand. His left was bandaged yet again from when the old wounds had reopened against Dr. Fletcher's face.

His eyes and muscles burned with exhaustion. It had been nearly seven hours since the Marble Tree bust. Joey had been rushed to the hospital and Dr. Fletcher and all five of his cohorts had been taken into custody. At that time, the entire team had cracked down on Ryan to go get checked out at the hospital. It took a physical threat from Walter to finally get him to climb back into Horatio's Hummer and allow the lieutenant to drive him there.

Two hours later he'd been given a clean bill of health from the doctor, which satisfied Horatio and relieved Ryan. He'd had quite enough of doctors for a while. The one who gave him the check-up was astounded by all Ryan had been through, but was able to contain his bewildered horror for the most part.

After that, when Horatio had offered to drive Ryan home, the young CSI had asked to instead be taken back to the lab. Horatio protested at first, but Ryan wouldn't budge. He'd evaded everyone in the lab – he didn't think he could handle the emotion of other people that came with being raised from the dead – and started the literal mountain of paperwork that was waiting for him. But then he received a phone call that a certain someone was awake.

Slipping out of the lab once more, Ryan signed out a Hummer and drove to the hospital. It was an incredibly weird sensation to be driving again. When he first climbed in, for a moment he was afraid he'd forgotten how. But the old muscle memory kicked in immediately and he relaxed.

He stopped by the hospital cafeteria to get a cup of tea. Then he went looking for room 416.

"Ryan!"

He turned to see Jay hurrying toward him, a wide smile on her face. She surprised him by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight.

"Lieutenant Caine said you did it," she said, letting go of him. "You solved it and arrested the people who murdered Mark."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, we got 'em. Sorry it took so long."

She held up a hand. "_I'm _sorry it took so long," she told him. "What you did for me, for us... Ryan, normal police officers don't do that."

"Sure they do," he insisted.

She shook her head. "If that was true, these people would have been stopped a long time ago. You went above and beyond. You put yourself through so much misery for people that most wouldn't care if they disappeared or were being exploited."

Ryan felt the color rising in his cheeks and neck. She was blowing this way out of proportion!

Jay saw the expression on his face and grinned. "Fine, be modest. But don't you ever undervalue what you've done. You're a hero."

She gave him another hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then began walking away.

"I would say I hope to see you again sometime," she called back playfully. "But you know where I work. It's better for you if you never need me again!"

Ryan raised his bandaged hand in farewell as she disappeared down the hall and around the corner, her words echoing in his skull.

_A hero...?_

Ryan smirked wryly, turning down the hall to his left. He didn't much feel like a hero at the moment.

Maybe after a nap and a _very _long shower.

**::|+|::**

Joey was sleeping tranquilly when he walked in and quietly took the seat at her bedside. She looked so much better already, even though it had only been hours since he'd carried her up from that dungeon. Her skin was still ashy, but her color was improving and her breathing was much less labored. The doctors had said the biggest problem with her had been the dehydration, nothing a couple of hearty IVs couldn't fix.

Ryan put the cup of tea on the bedside table.

"Joey?" he asked quietly.

She stirred. Her deep brown eyes peeped open tiredly. She looked at him for a moment, seemingly confused, then she smiled.

"Hi," she whispered.

"How're you feeling?"

"Okay," she answered, too tired to sit up. "You all right?"

Ryan smirked. "Still alive. Surprisingly."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

Ryan leaned down closed to her. "You put blowfish poison in that tea you gave me," he said quietly, but neither his voice nor his face were accusatory.

She swallowed thickly, her eyes nervous. "I had to," she whispered pleadingly. "They were coming for you next. I couldn't let that happen. I didn't know what else to do. You have to believe me, I would _never _hurt you on purpose..."

Ryan laid a hand on hers to calm her down. "Take it easy, sweetheart, I'm okay and I'm not mad at you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You're not?"

He shook his head. "You saved my life. They would have killed me for real if it hadn't been for you. The poison was the key to my escape. I would however like to know where you got it."

Joey looked away from him, her eyes watery. "Mama gave me my necklace when I was little. I never took it off. I had it with me when I came to Miami from New Orleans. I was in bad shape mentally. I bought the poison in Little Havana in case I ever wanted..."

She closed her eyes and sighed.

Ryan was saddened. "Joey... Did you buy it to kill yourself?"

She looked at him again, her eyes pleading. "That was a long time ago," she insisted. "I was a wreck. Someone told me it was an easy way to go. But I finally got a hold of myself and threw most of it away. I kept a little bit in my necklace as a reminder, as a wish to never go back to who I was. That was a short while before I was brought to Marble Tree, to get help."

"So why put it in the tea?" he asked. "Why not just tell me?"

"I couldn't," she said. "I was afraid you would think I was just being paranoid and wouldn't take it. This was the only way I could make sure you would use the poison in a bad situation. ICE. In case of emergency!"

"Huh," Ryan said amusedly. "Did not get that."

"I'm so sorry, Jordan!" she cried.

Ryan patted her hand. "Don't be. And that's another thing I need to talk to you about. I'm not really a homeless person or a mentally unstable patient."

She frowned, but she didn't look all that surprised.

"I'm a cop," he told her. "My name is Ryan Wolfe. I work for the crime lab. I was investigating Marble Tree for suspicious activity."

Joey suddenly grinned. "I knew you were way too sane for that place," she said. "I should've known you weren't who you said you were."

"I'm sorry for lying to you," he said whole-heartedly.

"If I don't get to be sorry for nearly killing you, you certainly don't get to be sorry for that," she replied deviously. "Deal?"

Ryan grinned. "Deal."

"So you caught the bad guys then?"

Ryan nodded. "They'll never hurt you again, I promise."

Joey's eyes shone with gratitude. "What happens now?"

"Well... You'll stay here for a couple days. Then we'll talk about finding you somewhere to live."

"You're not sending me back to Marble Tree?" she asked softly, beaming.

"I'd never send you back there," Ryan said fervently. "If you want to be admitted to another psychiatric hospital, we can certainly do that. But your files and tests have all shown that you are competent enough to take care of yourself now, if you wish."

"I might have to think about that," she replied thoughfully.

Ryan nodded. "I understand. I hope you'll at least consider a half-way house. I know a good one. They can help you with the transition."

Joey smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Jordan. I mean... Wait, what's your real name again?"

Ryan laughed. "Ryan. Ryan Wolfe. I'll leave my card for you with my phone number on it. I want you to call me anytime, if you need anything at all. I'll be by to see you again soon, though. We'll talk more then. Okay?"

"Okay."

Ryan stood up to leave. "I don't think you're supposed to have caffeine," Ryan said impishly. "But I brought you some tea. Maybe you can sneak a little bit when the nurses aren't looking?"

Joey giggled. "Definitely. Sugar and lemon?"

"As if I'd forget," he retorted playfully.

"Thank you... Ryan. For everything. You saved me."

Ryan smiled at her, his heart full. "Right back at you. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything," she said earnestly.

"Please don't try to save my life ever again."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, sorry for dropping off the face of the planet for the past two days :P Only two chapters left!

_**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**_


	45. Loose Ends

**XLIV**

**Loose Ends**

_Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be._

- Miguel de Cervantes -

* * *

Ryan spent that night at the lab, despite the protests from his teammates. Every one of them offered their couches or extra beds, but he wasn't having any of it. The night shift wasn't bothered by him sleeping on the break room couch. The sounds of the machines and the people steadily solving crimes in the dead of night were soothing to him.

It was a comfort to see that in here, no matter how bad things sometimes seemed out there, justice was never sleeping.

Ryan couldn't accurately explain why he wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, return home just yet. Something just didn't feel finished yet. Even though the six perpetrators had been processed, booked and had their statements taken. Even though Dr. Fletcher had been carted away to prison until his preliminary hearing. Even though Joey was on the mend and the Mark Warren murder case had been closed.

Ryan didn't sleep easily that night, despite how safe he felt at the lab. He was haunted by nightmares of torture and of darkness. More than once he woke up in a cold sweat.

Around five in the morning, he gave up on sleeping altogether even though his entire body protested. He got up from the couch and went to the coffee machine. The graveyard shift had drunk all but half a cup's worth. He hadn't even heard them come and go as he'd been sleeping. Working at night must make them naturally sneaky, he thought amusedly. Ryan took a filter and the bag of coffee from the cabinet to brew a fresh pot.

The rest of the day shift began trickling in around eight. Eric was the first to get in, having come in early to catch up on paperwork. He was only partially surprised to see Ryan sitting on the couch in the break room, a stack of papers spread out on the table in front of him.

"You seriously didn't go home at all last night?" he asked concernedly.

Ryan shrugged, not taking his eyes off his papers. "I think the late shifts liked having me here," he said drily. "I was a coffee-making machine almost all night. They never had to do it themselves."

Eric frowned. "Didn't you sleep?"

"A little."

"You feeling okay?"

Ryan fixed a look on Eric that very clearly said, What do _you_ think?

Eric poured himself a cup of coffee. "It's over, Wolfe," he told him, his back to him. "You accomplished what you set out to do. Now it's time to get back to your life."

"I don't know if I can."

Ryan said it so quietly, Eric almost wasn't sure if he'd actually said it. He turned around to face his friend, choosing his words carefully.

"You've been through hell, Wolfe," he said, keeping any pity out of his voice. He didn't think Ryan would like that too much. "I can't say I know what you're going through, but I do know what it's like to feel like someone pushed the reset button on your life and then neglected to tell you about it. You feel like you have to start from scratch and simply don't know where to start."

Ryan looked up at Eric. Somehow, he'd just perfectly described what Ryan was feeling. As if the floor had dropped from underneath him and he simply didn't know what to do next.

Eric grinned. "You've gotten so used to being in constant danger inside this alias of yours, you think you've lost who you were before this whole thing started," he continued wisely. "Trust me, you haven't. You just need some time to readjust. You'll find it again."

The two were silent for a moment as Ryan thought everything over and Eric took a sip of coffee.

"You almost done with your paperwork?" Eric asked mischeviously.

Ryan made a face at him. "I think I'll be knee-deep in reports and evaluations until I'm ready to collect my pension."

Eric chuckled. "Probably. But aren't you on administrative leave for a couple days anyway? Go home and relax. The paperwork will still be here when you get back, trust me."

Ryan stood up and stretched, hearing as well as feeling his joints crack loudly.

"Not just yet," he said. "There's one more thing I have to do first."

**::|+|::**

Ryan couldn't believe what he was doing to himself. He'd seen his fill of this place enough to last a few lifetimes. As he drove up to the front of Marble Tree and parked the Hummer, he couldn't help but feel a little nauseous.

But he made a pact with himself right then. He would never _ever _return to this place, no matter what. He would answer no call-outs to this place. He would never drive by it, he would never have anything to do with it for as long as he lived.

Just as soon as he tied up the loose ends.

He walked into the lobby and saw the familiar young woman sitting at the front desk. She didn't seem to recognize him, though he didn't mind at all. In fact, he preferred it that way. He was clean-shaven and showered, wearing a suit he'd luckily left in his locker in case he ever needed to change.

"Can I help you?" she asked kindly.

"Hi, I'm visiting someone," he said. This felt so bizarre.

"Okay, you just need to fill this out," she said, handing over a small binder full of sign-in sheets. "With your name and who you're visiting. Are you expected?"

Ryan grinned to himself. "Probably."

She handed him a visitor's badge to clip to his jacket pocket. "Display this at all times, please," she told him. "Elevators are right over there. Do you know where you're going?"

"Yes. Thanks."

Ryan turned away from the desk and entered the elevator. He leaned against the wall until it shuddered to a halt on the fourth floor.

Ryan had to steel himself for a moment before he stepped out into the lobby.

It was strange how quietly normal everything was. The patients were all scattered around at the rec room tables, most of them playing cards with each other or muttering quietly over drawings and other activities. The staff patrolled around, making sure everyone was doing all right. Ryan noticed a lot of the faces were new, and the familiar ones were stressed.

The horrors that some of their very own colleagues had committed must have come as quite to shock to them.

"Hey!"

Ryan turned to see Matt hurrying toward him, looking bleak.

Ryan couldn't help but grin at his orderly friend as he approached with a surprised look on his face.

Matt looked him up and down, taking in his suit and appearance. "You clean up good, man," the orderly said amusedly. "I never would have thought."

Ryan chuckled. "Yeah, well, I had to keep up appearances."

A shadow passed over Matt's face. "I took the last couple days off," he said quietly. "I only just heard about what happened. That's _terrible_. Doc Fletcher and the others... I never would have guessed. And _you_! An undercover cop. I knew there was something about you..."

"I really appreciate you being so nice to me," Ryan said, really meaning it. "You have no idea how much easier you made it for me to be here."

Matt looked at the floor, his face full of shame. "I should've figured this out for myself," he said quietly, his voice full of self-contempt. "I should've _done _something."

Ryan took a step closer to him. "Hey, they probably would have killed you too if you had. This isn't your fault," he said forcefully. "They operated at night, when almost nobody was here. They were very good at hiding in plain sight. They never would have given you legitimate reason for concern."

Matt met his gaze and saw that Ryan meant what he was saying.

"You're a good man, Matt," Ryan pressed. "Everyone here is so much better off with you around. Trust me, I know."

Matt had to grin at that. He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks."

Ryan held out his hand. Matt shook it.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?" Matt asked after they let go. "Something tells me it's not exactly homesickness..."

Ryan snorted ruefully. "No, I'm actually here visiting."

Matt's face immediately lit up with realization. He smiled. "She's out in the courtyard," he told him. "I think she misses you."

**::|+|::**

Ryan slowly walked out into the sunlit courtyard, his hands in his pockets. He saw who he was looking for immediately.

Mrs. Naughton was sitting on the grass, plucking one blade at a time and muttering to it before she tossed it to the wind.

Ryan couldn't help but smile as he approached. She didn't seem to notice him getting closer, she was too focused on manicuring the lawn. He sat down on the bench right behind her, the same bench that he and Joey had frequented.

"Mrs. Naughton?" he asked quietly.

She didn't turn around to look at him, but she stopped muttering.

"It's good to see you again," he said, somewhat awkwardly preparing himself for what would probably be a one-sided conversation. "Well... I came back because I wanted to try to explain to you what happened. Personally."

No response. Her back was to him.

"My name isn't Jordan West," he said heavily. "It's Ryan Wolfe. I'm a police officer, and I was undercover here to investigate the staff in connection to a suspicious death."

Mrs. Naughton still didn't say anything, but she seemed to have paused her tending the grass for a moment.

Ryan was quiet, not entirely sure how to continue. Finally he swallowed and plunged forward, hoping what he was about to say wouldn't upset her.

"While I was looking for information on this place, I read your file," he admitted, guilt twinging in his stomach. "I hope you don't mind. I know your husband died of pancreatic cancer in 1987. And your son... he was a marine, right?"

Still no answer, though her head was now bowed as if she was staring at her lap.

"I'm so sorry," Ryan said quietly. "I know what it's like to be lonely. I wish I could talk to you in your words. You always seemed to know just what to say to me, and you even had a somewhat limited vocabulary..."

Ryan thought hard for a moment. He hadn't had to recite Shakespeare since high school. Suddenly he had it.

"Let's see...," he muttered. "Um... To be or not to be. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer... Um... Oh, crap... Right, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them...?"

Ryan's voice trailed off. He grasped for the next words to the passage, but it was like trying to grip sand in his fingers.

"To die, to sleep," Mrs. Naughton suddenly said. She stood and turned around to face him, a smile on her lined face. "No more, and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to."

She sat on the bench next to him. "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream... Ay, there's the rub."

Her eyes met his, a brightness glowing in the blue depths. She reached up a hand and laid it against the side of his face. Her touch was warm, like a mother's.

"Such stuff as dreams are made on," she murmured, smiling.

Ryan smiled back as she took her hand away. "That's not from 'Hamlet,'" he protested jokingly. "That much I know."

Mrs. Naughton looked for a moment as if she might laugh.

"I found a new place for you if you'd like," he told her. "It's a nice private place about a half-hour west of here. They have gardens there that you can work in, real ones with flowers and vegetables. I could come visit you sometimes too, if you'd like."

Her eyes were wide with wonder and gratitude, tears welling up in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but it wasn't her usual croak that came out. The sound was softer, smoother and lighter.

"Th...tha...ank...y...you...," she stammered, as if the words were too clumsy and thick for her tongue.

Ryan stared at her, beaming. He _knew_ it! She was still perfectly sharp in her mind. There was hope for her.

There was hope for both of them.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Now I'm just updating at bizarre times. It's almost 2 in the morning! Well... only one chapter left. I can't believe it. But no sadness yet shall pervade my heart or mind. I shall bid thee adieu on the morrow. ;)


	46. Home

**XLV**

**Home**

_If you call one wolf, you invite the pack._

- Bulgarian Proverb -

* * *

By some miracle, Ryan finished his paperwork that day. It took almost seven hours of him sitting silently in an unused interrogation room. He handed in a large stack to Hannah in IAB, who was still very pregnant as well as happy to see him. He kept his visit with her brief. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the past month of his life. She seemed understanding enough, keeping her questions to only the barest details she needed for her report.

By that time, it was after five. Most of the day shift people had already left for the night. Ryan was thankful for that. Just then he much preferred to be as alone as possible. He had too much to wrap his head around already without someone else interrupting his thoughts.

He stepped inside the dim locker room with his hands in his pockets. It was blissfully vacant. He walked to his locker and started half-heartedly spinning the dial on the lock. There was no avoiding it anymore.

It was time to go home.

Home. The word felt alien to him, he realized with a pang. He'd been gone so long, been under for so long... He wasn't sure he remembered home. He wasn't sure he remembered how to feel safe.

His locker clanked open. Inside was only a plastic bag full of the clothes he'd worn yesterday. He'd left his wallet, phone and keys all at home. The spare keys he'd given the team so they could check on his condo once in a while hadn't been returned yet.

Ryan picked up the bag of clothes and closed the locker. He was about to turn to go when he saw Horatio was standing between him and the door.

Horatio smiled at him. "Need a lift?" he asked quietly.

With a jolt, Ryan suddenly remembered that he didn't actually have his car here. A month ago he'd walked into the city and then Frank had driven him everywhere.

He grinned. "Thanks, H."

"It's the least I could do, Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan took another step toward the door, but stopped once he realized Horatio wasn't moving.

"Everything okay?" Ryan asked, his grin vanishing.

Horatio looked down at the floor, his sunglasses in his hands as usual. His lined face was somber. Ryan waited, practically holding his breath. He wished Horatio would just spit it out already.

Finally he did. "You know how much you mean to us, right?" he asked quietly.

Ryan blinked. What an odd thing to say. Horatio wasn't the sentimental type, at least not with his team. His emotions usually only showed when he was dealing with suspects, and then it was usually anger he expressed.

But then Ryan remembered something, even though it was so blurry in his mind that he wasn't even sure if it was real. When he was under the effects of the poison, sometimes he thought he could still hear and feel things. At the time, he hadn't been sure if they were real or just dreams. But the most tangible of all the supposed memories was a voice calling his name. It had sounded like Horatio's voice, but Ryan couldn't be sure. He'd been drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, not fully coming back to himself at all until Alexx had woken him up.

Now he was sure it had been Horatio's voice. Tom and Alexx had told him the day before that it had been the lieutenant who had found him dumped on the beach. Horatio had been the one to first think he was forever lost.

His voice had sounded so worried, so desperate to find him when it had called out...

Ryan swallowed the lump that had inexplicably risen in his throat, but he didn't know what to say.

"I would guess it's about the same as how much you all mean to me," he replied quietly. _Which is a lot_, he added silently.

Horatio nodded slightly, as if he'd heard Ryan's afterthought. "What you did..." he said. "What you faced for the sake of all those people... Ryan, not many men can bear such a burden and come out clean at the other end."

It was Ryan's turn to look at the floor. That was certainly true. He didn't feel clean. And he didn't mean the kind of cleanliness that comes from thoroughly bathing. It was deeper than skin. He felt it, but he had hoped that no one else could see it on him. Apparently he'd been foolish to think so.

"But you _have_ come clean."

Ryan looked up at him, surprised. Horatio was surveying him steadily with pale blue eyes. The lieutenant gave him a small smile.

"You might not feel like it right now," Horatio continued kindly. "I don't blame you. But give it some time. I think you'll find that the man you were a month ago has always been inside you. He's no more dead or tainted than you are."

"Well, I _was _dead," Ryan joked weakly. "Sort of."

"And you came back to us," Horatio replied. "You'll come back to yourself, too. It just takes time."

_That's what Eric said_, Ryan thought. He wanted so much for both of them to be right. Maybe they were. At any rate, they were at least right about the time part. Maybe a couple of quiet days at home was just what he needed.

Ryan nodded slowly. "Thanks, H," he said quietly.

Horatio smiled a little wider. "You'll be okay. Just wait and see. You ready?" he asked lightly, turning to lead the way out of the locker room.

Ryan followed his mentor, still mulling over his words.

When Horatio told him he would be all right, it was hard to think otherwise.

**::|+|::**

The ride home felt incredibly long to Ryan. It was rush hour, but the traffic was steadily moving. He just gazed out the window at the scenery they passed. He rarely got a chance to enjoy it, since when he was here it was usually while driving and therefore his mind was occupied with more important things. Horatio didn't try to pull him into any conversation, which Ryan appreciated.

But as they neared Ryan's home, that sinking feeling sprang up in the pit of his stomach again. Suddenly being alone felt a whole lot scarier than anything else.

They turned the corner onto Ryan's block. He saw his condo. And then he saw the familiar cars parked on the curb in front of it.

At first he didn't believe it. Then he grinned.

He looked over at Horatio and saw the older man was smiling quietly to himself.

Ryan should have known he wasn't the only one who didn't want him to be alone that night.

**::|+|::**

"Seriously, though, how many vacuum cleaners do you think Wolfe has?" Walter asked. "I got twenty bucks says it's more than three."

Natalia laughed. "Hey, in order to need more than one, you have to actually be messy first."

"True. At least he made our jobs easy," Walter replied, carrying the paper towels and bottles of cleaner back over to the closet where he'd gotten them from.

He and Natalia had ducked out of work early to come straighten things up for Ryan's homecoming. They had a sneaking suspicion their "clean" and Ryan's "clean" were slightly different, but they at least gave him a head start, if nothing else. They dusted, vacuumed, polished the tables and wiped down the windows until the whole place felt as well as looked brighter. Once they were through with it, they couldn't even tell that the place had been uninhabited for a month.

They both froze when they heard someone pull up to the curb outside. Through the big glass windows that lined the streetside wall of Ryan's condo, they saw Horatio and Ryan step out of a Hummer and start walking toward the front door. The sun was setting, casting long shadows behind everything.

Ryan got about halfway to the door when he saw Walter and Natalia through the windows. He stopped walking.

For a brief moment, Natalia was afraid he was angry with them. They probably should have asked his permission before letting themselves into his home and cleaning it...

But then Ryan smiled. Her worries were immediately alleviated.

Walter and Natalia were waiting by the door when Ryan let himself and Horatio in.

"Tada!" Natalia said with a flourish of her arms. "Welcome home!"

Ryan chuckled, looking around his condo. "This place looks great. You guys did all this?"

"Well, it wasn't like we had much to do," Walter pointed out drily. "This place was pretty much already spotless before we ever got here."

"Yeah, I thought coming back to a dusty heap and a refrigerator full of rotten food would be somewhat less than pleasant," Ryan retorted.

"Speaking of which," Natalia remarked, looking at her watch, "dinner should be here any minute."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at her. "Dinner?"

As if to answer, another car pulled up to the curb and within seconds Eric and Calleigh were walking in. Eric carried three boxes of pizza in his arms and Calleigh had a six pack of beer.

"Oh, good, you're here," Calleigh said cheerfully, patting Ryan on the shoulder as she passed him on her way to the kitchen to fetch plates. Eric followed her, grinning at Ryan's bewildered expression. "Let's eat!"

"I brought movies!" Natalia said. She walked over to an end table and picked up the three DVD cases there. "I couldn't decide, so I brought a selection."

Walter took the movies from her. "_Die Hard_, _Lethal Weapon_ and _The Departed_?" he read. He made a face at her. "Did you think we didn't get enough of police work or something?"

"Oh, come on!" she protested. "These are all _classics_! And what cop in his or her right mind doesn't love a far-fetched Hollywood representation of their mundane lives?"

"Yeah, that's us...," Walter muttered. "_Mundane_."

Calleigh and Eric walked out of the kitchen. "Pizza and beer is in there," she announced. "Everyone okay with using paper plates?"

"Sounds good to me!" Walter said.

Calleigh walked over to Ryan, who hadn't moved from where he stood by Horatio, watching silently with an odd look on his face.

"I hope you don't mind," she said quietly, putting a hand on his arm. "After all that's happened... We just thought it would be nice to have some fun together for a change. Not that catching bad guys every day isn't fun, of course."

"Of course," Natalia echoed, a twinkle in her eye.

"We just wanted to make sure _you_ were okay," Walter added quickly. "You know, make sure you settled back in all right."

"Don't worry, we won't sleep over," Eric jumped in, smirking.

"So what do you think?" Natalia asked hesitantly.

Ryan was at a loss for words. There simply weren't any that could possibly do justice to what he was feeling. His eyes inexplicably prickled and a lump formed in his throat.

Finally he grinned, shaking off the emotion. "What kind of pizza did you get?" he asked, starting off toward the kitchen.

All of them relaxed immediately, so glad he was okay with them spending some time with him that evening. None of them ever wanted to experience the feeling of losing him ever again.

"You sure you don't want to turn this into a sleepover, Eric?" Ryan called sarcastically as he dug a bottle opener out of a drawer. "We could make s'mores and talk about our crushes... Maybe I could even braid Walter's hair."

"As if you could reach!" Walter retorted.

Laughter filled the place, warming it more than the sun itself ever could. Food and drinks were passed around and the teammates all settled down in various places to eat and enjoy each other's company.

Ryan looked around at his friends as they talked and laughed in his living room. If he had known this was what he would be coming back to, rather than some dusty mausoleum, he probably wouldn't have been so nervous about it.

These people were more than colleagues or teammates. They were friends. They were family. They were people he loved and he would give anything to protect them. They made him happy and were there for him when he needed help. They made him feel safe.

Here with them, he genuinely felt like he was finally home.

* * *

**THE END.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **I can't believe it's over. I was seriously tearing up while writing the last couple of paragraphs.

Thank you all so much for reading, and special thanks to everyone who reviewed. This story was such a joy to write. I can only hope you had as much fun reading it as I did creating it. With every story I finish, a little piece of me always sticks to it :P. I know that's sappy and cliche, but I think it's true. In the next few days I'm going to feel like something's missing, but it'll be a good kind of missing. Sorry, it's nearly 3 in the morning and I'm babbling.

As of yet, I don't know when I'll be back. I know I say that every time :P. But this time... I don't know. I'm finishing up school and then I'll be looking for work and I _really _need to get some solid work on my novels done... We'll see. I have a couple ideas floating in the back of my head right now for more stories, but nothing tangible yet. I **will **be back though.

I love this site and I love all of you so much. Thank you for helping to create a (relatively) safe ;P, fun environment for all of us to come and share our work with each other.

Until next time, friends! :D


End file.
